If There Be Thorns
by Entropy Empathy
Summary: After Mai HiME, what would it really take for a happy ending? Angst, of course. Natsuki searches for truth, understanding, and closure. Action, romance and Shizuru. What more does one need?
1. Chapter 1 : Chaos

**A/N: **I've been inspired by many of the fine writers here – have in fact, been enraptured by, reveled in and completely enjoyed countless fictions of fandom here. I bow to you all. Please accept my heartfelt thanks for smoothing over the jilted lover syndrome I drifted in, prior to finding this board. Though I loved the series, obsessively so, it seemed… incomplete towards the end.

This is my first fanfic, though I'm no stranger at dipping my quill in ink, placing pen to paper, and trying (with varying levels of success) to breath life into imaginary characters. I've endeavored to slip into their skins, see the world through their eyes, and portray them to the best of my abilities, in hopes of accomplishing a world continuing the Mai HiME universe beyond the original scope of its creators. I write this for the joy of writing itself, but never was there a more lonely creature than a story without an audience.

It is my dearest wish that you enjoy this work as much as I relished portraying it; that you let it sweep you into its arms, dance with you until you're both dizzy, and carry you off to the metaphorical bedchamber. This _is_ a romance at heart, but, as I find mission statements too constricting, I've loosened my collar and snuck a plot in here too. Its purpose is to explore what events might have to occur for a certain lone wolf to find herself, find the closure she desperately needed, and to partake of love in all its ever-varied forms. It is an ode to humanity, a search for happiness, a coming of age. But most importantly, it's the logical extension to rambling, egocentric author's notes.

Should you find errors in the story, please feel free to point them out to me – I'd like to improve my writing skills. I did not edit my own work (having been blessed with the world's most forgiving beta, it would be a Shakespearean shame not to wring every last ounce of sanity from her tremulous grasp), but I'm stubborn. Any grammatical errors are my own. Also, should you enjoy this work, please give me positive reinforcement – I thrive on chocolate flavored Scooby Snacks, encouragement, and constructive criticism. Will work for praise.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Mai HiME, its characters, or any other intellectual property rightfully belonging to Sunrise.

* * *

**  
If There Be Thorns: Interlude  
**

They say that in the beginning there was darkness, a darkness so complete nothing could exist within it. And from this darkness, things emerged. Life, reason, time, maybe. That's not the way it was at all. In the beginning there was chaos, and from this chaos, the powers that be vied for dominance. Some rose, some fell, some got misplaced along the way. The wages of war are sin, sins that magnified our weakness, blurred lines, bargained hope for balance, and took something from us, each and every one. Something so primitive and vital many of us never recovered. And when the dust settled, everyone lost. Sort the bodies, folks; game over. You look too long into the abyss, the abyss looks back, writes your name in that little black book it carries around.

The war, as we experienced it, was over – all happy happy joy joy, we received our reward. We got back those the darkness took. Thing is, when you've been to hell, you can't smell the roses any more. At least, I can't. I'm not sure about the rest of them; we were all so busy pretending it never happened, you'd think time'd been given a tardy slip, and snuck into class late. A little older, a little wiser – a little colder, a crapload miser. What did I learn? Hold on to those few moments of ignorance before everything comes clean, hold on until you bleed, cause once you know the truth, it never lets go. Love is a venom, its own toxin and cure; never look away, never turn your back, never leave the ones you care for behind.

Yeah. Everyone got back what the darkness took. Like the monkey's paw. Save the world, they said, and I guess we did. No more Obsidian Lord, he moved on, became global corporation. No more Orphans. _They_ became people, the heavy shit you read about in the news, the tragic blurb at the bottom of the CNN ticker tape. No more red star, no more apocalypse now, no more nuclear wedgie of fate. Forgotten, but not gone, oh no. In the beginning, there were thirteen of us. Thirteen little dominos, all set up in neat little rows. Thirteen little dominos, already tipping before we were shoved. No more _there can be only one!_ If you ask me, that's the best no more there is, except sometimes when you win, you lose. No more battling amongst ourselves, the thirteen maidens of heaven. The one we were left with was ourselves, and I don't think any of us have mastered that yet.

The marks have faded, but the scar is in the soul. No more HiMEs? Maybe. Like I said – we were all so busy trying to forget it ever happened, for some of us, it never did. You can't see the mark any more, but it's there, buried in the skin, fused to the bone, carried by the blood, killing us by inches. We lost some of the abilities, and none of the skill. No more HiMEs? Maybe. No longer Valkyries, but we sure as shit aren't human. We're like… Pinocchio – we cut our strings to be free, but we're not real. Not to them, not to they, not to ourselves.

My scars are deeper than others'. Midori got her professor. Nao got her mother. Haruka got Yukino and not the other way around, I don't care what they tell you. Takumi and Akira became much like Akane and her Kazu – attached at the heart, attached at the hip, attached at the loins. If love can set you free, obviously the first counter measure is to bind oneself to another; a token, a leash, buy a ring. I don't want to go into what happened to the nun. Not even Nao freely broaches that subject, and we all know how talkative she can be. Even the marionette's touchstone was returned to her, which is, I suppose, fitting, since it was by her hand that we were returned to ourselves, and really, who else but an android could care for someone like Alyssa.

Mai was the luckiest of us all – her sacrifice returned not one, but two; her suffering gutted the demon bare, stole the keys of hell, reunited lost siblings, redefined affection, blah blah blah. The list goes on, but I'm not the one to tell _that _story. I'll leave that for Shiho, who, deserving nothing, got nothing in return. They say she had a mental breakdown, and in a fit of passion, locked the dorm doors before setting the blaze which took her life. I suppose I should feel sorry for her, but somehow I can't. Mai was in there, and Mikoto. Only Yuichi survived. Irony has a sense of humor, ne?

But me, I gained and lost. I don't like to gamble – I deal in absolutes. I killed my most precious person because it needed to be done. I wouldn't give that task to Mai – she was mine to love, mine to forgive, mine to save. I wanted to go with her, on her journey into the darkness, I wanted to be her redeemer, her companion, her strength. I wanted her to realize she wasn't alone, because… she wasn't. Perhaps it was selfish of me to want to be the last person Shizuru saw, to hold her while we died, but I don't care. I deal in absolutes. I had no regrets then, I do now.

Did I gain more than I lost? I'm still not sure. Of the thirteen maidens of heaven, who by second death or second chance slipped destiny's noose, of those of us left who choose to remember, only we, she and I, gained and lost. Shizuru gained acceptance, and realization of my love. She lost her will to live. I gained my heart and the ability to see beyond the exclusion of purpose. I lost my only friend. They say revenge is a dish best served cold. They say, that which doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. They say the war is over, but I know better, I always have. The war hasn't ended, just changed form. There is something they say that's true though. You always end up right where you began. In the beginning, there was chaos.

* * *

**  
Chapter I****  
**

_Never ever. Never ever._ The words swirled around in her mind, consumed her consciousness, plagued her dreams. _Never ever, forever._ The air was too warm, too thick, dark and claustrophobic – it pressed in upon her from all sides, burying her under the oppressive weight. She moaned in her sleep, thrashing amidst the grungy, sweat-stained sheets, lost in her own world. A very small world, one getting smaller with each passing second, constricting, suffocating, crushing – a moment of fear as the darkness descends upon her, resonating maddeningly as her confinement sealed itself around her. The sleeping figure's thrashing grew less animated, as if her body were recollecting the memory as well as her mind.

Her breathing labored, her body stretching, pulling against invisible restraints, stumbling forward against her will. An unwanted dichotomy, trading one imprisonment for another, fighting for life long enough to die. It was a game, a game with no winner, and when the restraints were replaced with softer, more yielding chains, in that moment everything changed. _Why? Why had it changed? _It was easier to forgive than forget – in her dreams, the object of her attention, her contest, her affection, turned away in the final moments. Reversed the roles, became aloof in quiet dissatisfaction. Denied the offering because it wasn't … what she wanted.

In her dreams, in that moment before they were both consumed by frozen flame, she'd offered Shizuru everything she was capable of giving, had forgiven her with a kiss, opened her arms, and taken her in, pressed close – to let her know she was loved, absolutely and completely. And in this realization, in her self-discovery, her act of compassionate affection, she'd wounded Shizuru again; locked the screams of hurt and rejection behind those strawberry-hazel eyes, locked them tight within Shizuru's chest. In her fumbling attempts to break the walls around her heart, she'd excused her best friend's infatuation, because that's what friends did; ignorance kills - well intended words that stole Shizuru's will to live, as cleanly as if she'd drawn a scalpel across her heart.

In her dreams, she watched the only person she'd ever loved die a raw and merciless death, one which began with Shizuru's limbs as she pulled away that fraction to remove herself from the circle of warmth, crept through her body like ice water, turning her into an apparition of herself, and the words she'd whispered into the scorched air hadn't been ones of pleasure – they were relief. Shizuru had given herself last rites.

In her dreams, Shizuru was always turning away, turning her back on Natsuki, as Natsuki had done so many times. _Returning the favor. _The sleeping figure's arm lifted a fraction, the fingers reaching for something it could never hold, her breathing labored, as if she were running to catch up. And perhaps she was. Running to catch up to herself, the one that wanted Shizuru close, dragging the part of herself that couldn't handle intimacy of any sort kicking and screaming behind. _Please… please don't make me choose between being alone and … please. I don't want to be alone any more._

Natsuki cried out, sitting up abruptly. She could feel the scream coiled in the back of her throat _Shizuru!_, and there it would stay, forgotten, until she returned to unconsciousness. Her head swam, and she looked around the squalid room with bleary, uncomprehending eyes. It was too hot. Much too hot. She scratched her stomach, still mostly asleep, and was just about to roll back into a sleeping position when a subtle shift in the atmosphere of the room snapped her into complete, adrenaline boosted awareness. Her hand inched under the pillow, curling around the reassuring weight of the gun.

"If you didn't want company, you shouldn't leave your door unlocked."

_Nao. Fuck. _"I didn't," she snapped tersely, pulling the gun out and leveling it at the shadow standing in her bedroom doorway.

"No?" Nao walked a few feet into the room, running her fingers through the accumulated dust on the dresser distastefully. The room was small, and had only two pieces of furniture in it; the dresser and the bed. "It was open… to me." Natsuki got the impression she was smiling; she could hear it in the tone, even though her unexpected visitor was facing away from her. Deliberately ignoring the implied threat of the gun pointed at her.

"You picked the god damn lock," Natsuki huffed indignantly.

"Mmm, yes, I did."

Natsuki rolled her eyes, lowering the heavy gun to her lap. She sighed and rubbed her temples with her free hand. This conversation was giving her a headache. "What did you want, Nao. I've got better things to do than get wrapped up in one of your cat and mouse games."

"You have so little free time on your hands? I doubt that. After all, you're sleeping alone. You've graduated, you don't have a job, a life, or any apparent ambition other than locking yourself up in this pig sty." The redhead brushed the dust off her fingers, turning around. Natsuki had been correct – the familiar half-sneer half-smile was firmly in place. She was silent for an unbearable length of time, eyeing the disheveled woman in front of her, the sweat rumpled sheets, the dark, damp smelling room. Natsuki ground her teeth in frustration, her patience wearing thin. She stared at the interloper with undisguised hostility, their eyes locked with one another. Nao lost interest in the staring contest first.

Sighing wistfully, Nao raised a shoulder in a partial shrug. "I was worried about you. After you left school, things got so very boring, and I wanted to know what you were up to." She smiled sweetly, setting Natsuki's nerves even more on edge; her headache kicked up an octave. Nao's Cheshire smile widened accordingly. Make that two octaves.

"Get out."

Nao pouted. "So mean. Can't I be interested in what happened to the infamous Natsuki? After all, we have _so much_ in common. Isn't that what Natsuki said? We were the same?" The object of her questioning remained silent, though she'd developed the most adorable twitch under one of those striking emerald eyes.

Natsuki took a deep breath to repeat her command at a more respectable volume, but something Nao'd said struck her as odd. Obviously she was lying – Nao couldn't care less what happened to her, which meant she was working under someone else's curiosity. Her teeth closed with an audible snap, wrestling with her innate desire to get up and kick the pouting girl out on her snide little ass, preferably breaking a few bones in the process. She exhaled, calming herself.

"Who are you checking up on me for?"

"Ara! Suspicious too. Paranoia is one of the first signs of sexual frustration… I'm sure I could find you someone suitable… the real question is, would you prefer male? Or female?"

"NAO!"

The red head giggled, enjoying her torment, though, to be sure, she didn't find the brilliantly flushed face nearly as attractive as the horrified anger. She bit her lip thoughtfully, as if debating whether or not to continue this course of conversation and relaxed again, smiling a little to herself. Her eyes narrowed. "I don't do other people's gruntwork. I'm not a lackey. If you can't figure out why I'm here, I'm sure I don't know either."

Of course, Nao had her reasons for allowing the blackmail to succeed – the angst, the emotional torment was too delicious, too good an opportunity to pass up. So she'd allowed herself to be manipulated into this position of intercessory, negotiator. _Devil's advocate._ But she wasn't going to tell Natsuki these things; it would spoil the fun. She waited patiently for the raven haired girl to catch on, pulling out a file and shaping her nails. _So incredibly slow._ She had no idea how Natsuki survived, being this oblivious. She should have been run over by an ice cream truck, or wandered into the middle of military testing grounds by now. She was beginning to wonder if she'd have to drop even _more_ obscenely obvious hints, go over and smack the back of Natsuki's head, reset the thinking processes _what few of them she has_, but by the somewhat shocked, guilty expression on her face, two plus two finally equaled four.

"Shizuru," Natsuki mumbled in a numb voice.

Nao pointed her nail file at the figure slumping on the bed. "Bingo!" She resumed nonchalantly filing, humming to herself a little. She enjoyed knocking the anger out of Natsuki, now that she knew which buttons to push.

"But what… why?" Natsuki looked down and away, frowning, unable to look at her 'guest' any longer. "Why would she send you? If… if she was wondering about me, why wouldn't she just come herself?" The tone was dejected, listless, somewhat hurt, and very very timid. It was precious, priceless.

"Oh, as to that, I've no idea." Nao sniffed, slipping her file back into the pocket she'd manufactured it from. "Maybe she's too busy… doesn't have any free time, like you." Natsuki winced. "Maybe she doesn't want to seem like a crazed, maniacal stalker, set you running off again." Natsuki's head sank into her shoulders, now physically shrinking away from the other girl. "Or maybe… mmm…," Nao paused dramatically before twisting the knife. "Maybe she's finally realized you… don't… want… her any more. That it's easier when she's not around. Maybe she knows she's not welcome," she whispered, leaning forward to follow the retreating figure.

The oh so familiar sense of panic was closing in on her, making it hard to breathe, harder to think. It had been months, months since she'd experienced this horrible, crushing inertia of wounded futility. Yes, it was easier when Shizuru wasn't around, easier to believe she was happy, easier to put aside her feelings of terrified loss, of self recrimination for not being able to do, to become whatever Shizuru wanted, needed her to be. But it wasn't true that she wanted to be alone. She didn't… she was tired of being alone, tired of trying to stand in the middle of the river with only her own strength to keep her from being sucked into the undertow. It wasn't… it wasn't true that she didn't want Shizuru, the one person she'd ever trusted, the only person who'd ever been there for her when she really needed it.

"I can't deal with this shit," she whispered to herself. She had things to do, people to see, secrets to beat into submission. Natsuki brushed fingers through her hair angrily, painfully, cursing the weakness. Her fingers were trembling as she propelled herself off the bed, walked stiffly over to the closet and changed into her riding clothes. She grabbed the gun from its abandonment on the bed, angrily tore open the top dresser drawer to retrieve its twin, and stuffed them both roughly into the back of her pants, snug against the small of her back, collected the extra clips and put them in the short mini-jacket she wore, and stormed through the front door, slamming it hard enough to make the flaking plaster sift through the air. She never once looked back at Nao, who quietly watched the process of Natsuki running away, again, without comment.

Nao barked a short burst of laughter, curling her hand into a small paw shape, flexing its claws. "Meow, little kitty. Meow."


	2. Chapter 2 : Storms

**Chapter 2**

Natsuki didn't stop storming until she reached her motorcycle, didn't stop to think, or act or feel in any way whatsoever. She picked up the helmet and slipped it over her head, furiously wiping at the few stray drops of moisture she found clinging to her lashes, kicked the starter with one foot and rocked the bike forward in a single motion. She released the brake, kicked up the stand and was in hectic motion before her mind thawed enough to analyze the situation. Where was she going, anyway? To the college campus? To the private dormitories where… No. Not there. Anyplace but there.

She tried to get her breathing under control, tried to stop herself from her current state of hyperventilation. Her bike tilted dangerously on the rain slicked streets. The sky was overcast, matching her low-clouded mood, but the rain had stopped for now. _It can't rain all the time._ She leaned a little further into the wind, wanting to go faster, faster, faster – fast enough to outrun those things she wasn't thinking about. Fast enough to outpace the self-satisfied smile hidden behind Nao's affected disinterest. Fast enough to escape the impending sense of guilt threatening to choke the life from her at any moment.

The light changed unexpectedly and Natsuki skidded to a stop, inches from oncoming traffic, breathing hard, only her unnatural reflexes saving her from dumping sideways under the wheels of moving truck as it passed within kissing distance of the front tire. She trembled, clutching the bike tightly between her thighs, head hanging between her shoulder blades. She closed her eyes. _Get a grip. Get a fucking grip._ She forced herself to relax, one muscle at a time, until she was almost human again, her middle finger rising to salute the man honking behind her. She thought she heard his car door open and reflexively reached behind her to grab the handle of one of her guns, still not opening her eyes. He must have thought better about it, because the weight shifted in his car, rocking the springs, and he drove around her instead.

Natsuki smiled in bitter amusement, taking all the time she needed to collect herself. She wasn't running. She was prioritizing. She wasn't hurting Shizuru by staying away from her – she'd only cause more pain by hanging around, reminding Shizuru of ifonlys and nevercanbes. Natsuki was sure of this, quite sure. After all, she'd tried explaining it… tried explaining that it wasn't the female relationship thing, it wasn't the social stigma gay thing, it wasn't the dogmatic going-to-hell thing. It was just… she didn't feel that way about anyone. But that didn't mean she loved Shizuru any less. _Tried and failed miserably_, she corrected herself. _"Why, Natsuki?"_ She didn't have an answer for the betrayed longing in those addictive strawberry-hazel eyes. She didn't know herself.

What she did know was that she _did_ love Shizuru, completely, utterly, totally. _More than friends, less than lovers._ Things were so much simpler when they'd just been friends! Why couldn't they stay that way? Why had it shifted? When had it shifted? What was it now? Natsuki pressed her lips together angrily. She didn't know that, either. _If _she wanted, was capable of having a more intimate relationship with anyone, she was sure it would be with her tawny-haired companion. _And not even that was enough_, she lamented sourly. She bared her teeth in a snarl, revving the engine and pulling back into the traffic she'd been blocking for the last five minutes. No, that wasn't completely true, and she knew it. It was enough. For now. And that unstated sacrifice, in hopes of swaying her in the future, that lingering threat of _something more_ kept her from seeing Shizuru.

Her cell phone rang, pulling her out of her thoughts, and she almost screamed. She'd locked the brakes, her lower abdomen ramming painfully into the handlebars as she instinctually released the leaver and let the bike slide into the skid, guiding the now completely hydroplaning vehicle with her body weight. It was going to overbalance, she could feel the sickening tilt, the inexorable lowering of gravity's center, and rapidly looked around for a safe place to crash, to minimize the damage. Jumping off the bike to save herself injury never crossed her mind – the bike was an extension of herself, she'd no more abandon it than she'd blow off her own hand.

The world spun at alternating speeds as the bike shifted from moving forward by its front tires, and headed, ass first, into the decorative foliage outside some sort of gift shop. She dumped the bike further on its side, carefully, digging her boots into the dirt to slow their momentum, winced from the sting, her eyes widening in surprise even as she jerked her head clear of the low branch that'd almost decapitated her. She took a moment to look back at the branch, as both she and the bike came to a shuddering stop, the motor coughing into a stall. _Kami. _There were many times she cursed the abnormalities that separated her from the rest of humanity, but this wasn't one of them. _I should be dead – Kuga Natsuki, dead by misadventure in the garden, film at 11._

The cell phone was still ringing. Not bothering to extract herself from under the motorcycle, she snatched off her helmet, slammed it into the ground and grabbed the phone, fully ready to tear someone's head off. Her eyes flicked to the caller ID, and she calmed herself.

"What?" She couldn't keep the snap out of her voice entirely. She was still jazzing on the near death experience she'd had.

"Catch you at a bad time?" The person on the other end seemed unaffected by her hostile greeting; it's not like it was an unusual occurrence.

Natsuki looked down at herself, for all intents and purposes alive, but pinned under her overturned metal horse, did a quick internal check for the flaring pains associated with broken appendages, and finding none, leaned her head back on the thoroughly trashed grass beneath her. "No. Not really."

If the caller caught the slight sarcasm in her voice, he gave no indication. "Meet me at the bar. We have things to discuss." It wasn't phrased as a question, but both of them knew if she had an objection, she'd just tell him it could wait and hang up.

Natsuki wiped her leather gloved hand across her jaw in irritation, grimacing at the taste of dirt as it sifted into her face. "Yeah. Sure. Give me…" She glanced around to figure out where the hell she was. "Fifteen minutes."

"Twenty." She flipped the phone closed, stuffing it back in her jacket, grunted, and began the slow, embarrassing process of wiggling her way free. Her only consolation was a singular lack of audience to this show, for which she was very grateful. She hated brushing away helpful hands, hated explaining herself even more.

She righted the bike, looked over the damage, nodding in satisfaction. It wasn't much – she could touch up the paint job herself, and the chains were intact. She shook her head, gathering her hair back in place before she picked up the helmet and continued on her way. Had she been less distracted, she might have noticed her dare-devil antics had, in fact, attracted a spectator; an audience of one.

The man across the street smiled to himself, tracking the motorcycle's fading taillight until the vehicle turned, exiting his line of sight._ Extraordinary_. They'd warned him his targets were _dangerous_ "extraordinarily gifted", but that little display had awed and baffled him. Never before had he witnessed such precision – that level of control, that fast of reflexes. Of course he was new to the job, and this was only his second assignment. Of the two, this one was more entertaining to watch. Then again, she wasn't being medicated to a near comatose state either.

"Subject, Kuga Natsuki – continues to display abnormal ability. Recommendation – continued observation without intervention." He spoke to the air, and appeared to listen to that same thin air intently. "Yes sir." He folded his newspaper, took a moment to brush the creases out of his slacks and continued walking along the street. He didn't need to rush. They knew where she was going.

* * *

Natsuki sat stiffly at the bar, folding and refolding the matchbook cover she'd rescued from a nearby ashtray. She was bored and anxious, not the most congenial frame of mind for a conversation, so, though she was quite striking in the two-piece riding leathers she wore, she was left completely to herself. Those few who weren't regulars, hence spared her rather blunt, often acerbic retorts, paid heed to the aura of no vacancy she'd wrapped around herself. She fidgeted in discomfort, resisting the urge to adjust the guns nestled against her lower back into a more comfortable position. It wouldn't matter – they would only dig into her from a different direction.

She was slowly getting used to the changes she'd had to make to accommodate her new lifestyle. The first concession had been tossing out her one-piece riding suit – it was well neigh impossible to hide a gun anyplace easily reachable. She refused to go unarmed, was disgusted by the smaller caliber weapons, and didn't really want to carry a two and a half pound weapon between her breasts, or flash cleavage at her assailants before she pulled a gun on them. Chez trashique.

Getting the guns themselves was another concession, one which ranked. Not being able access her elements any longer pissed her off almost as much as trying to figure out where to put the damn things. Natsuki sighed, scanning the bar one more time for intelligent forms of life, and finding none, lifted a finger to get the bartender's attention.

"Oi, I'd like a beer." The bartender jerked his chin in her direction, reaching under the counter for a cold bottle of nondescript malt liquor, holding it out to her between the first two fingers of his left hand, brushing his thumb over the first two fingers of his right. _Money first, honey._ Natsuki snorted, digging into the jacket pocket for a bill and flipped it on the counter. The bartender accepted the bill without offering change. _Ahh, the perils of living in a man's world._ A smirk crossed her lips as she slipped her thumbnail under the cap, flicking it off casually and taking a long, slow drink, her eyes absently following its path as it bounced along the bar.

The lid skittered and spun, like water following a drain, winked twice and disappeared into the palm of a short gentleman wearing all khaki, from his stupid looking fishing hat to the well worn, soft-soled shoes on his feet. He pocketed the small piece of metal, sliding onto the barstool next to her. _Maybe he liked to keep them as souvenirs._

"You shouldn't drink," he murmured in a flat tone, adjusting himself on the seat as he surreptitiously verified they weren't being watched.

Natsuki shrugged noncommittally; it was none of his business – they both knew that. "Did you find anything?"

"There's nothing left to find. Let it go."

Her lips pressed together angrily. "Liar. I need to know what happened. I need to know… what I am. If you won't help me, I'll go dig through the god damn ruins myself until I find what I'm looking for." She tipped back the bottle, swallowing the last of the contents in three quick gulps, brushed her hair over her shoulder and swiveled in the seat to leave.

The man said nothing, merely leaned closer and slid an envelope into her pocket. She flushed a bit, forcing herself not to flinch, or pull away. He'd pulled out the envelope containing his payment in the same, casual movement, motioning to the bartender that he wanted to order a drink. Natsuki gritted her teeth for a moment, waiting to see if he would add anything more.

"Someone loosened the brake line on your bike. There's an address on the back of the envelope for someone that can fix it." He tipped his beer bottle towards her as she turned to face him, surprise evident on her face.

"How did…"

He cut her off with a brusque wave of his hand, turning his attention to the television in the corner of the bar. "You shouldn't wear things like that in here. The school uniform was bad enough. People love a victim." He watched her reflection in the glass, watched the tightening across her jaw, the narrowing of her eyes, how her face contorted into its mask of rage before she shoved the emotions evoking it away. As she did everything else in her life. "I'll keep looking, as long as you keep footing the bill. Take good care of the bike. It was expensive."

Natsuki took a deep breath, sighing in exasperation. Of course he wasn't really saying what he was saying, any more than she would have accepted what he meant if he'd phrased it any other way. She debated simply walking away, debated beating him over the head with his own beer bottle. "Thanks," she mumbled, and stepped back into the misty, rain-slicked world outside.

The man in khaki watched the raven-haired girl pour her hair into her helmet and kick the motorcycle to life, cautiously walking it into traffic. At least she'd taken that part of his cautions seriously, he mused to himself. That was probably for the best. _Be careful Natsuki. Some demons come back from the dead. _He wasn't sure she could handle another demon, not alone. He wasn't sure at all.

He turned his head, watching the entrance of the man in a charcoal suit. He was holding a newspaper in one hand, the other hand brushing the stray droplets of rainwater from his pale blond hair. Thin and somewhat hawk faced, he was reasonably unmemorable in appearance, except for his ice blue eyes, and the almost comically petite glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He claimed the seat Natsuki had so recently vacated, quietly laying the newspaper along the bar and smoothing the fold along its side.

"Smith." The man in khaki swirled the dregs of beer left at the bottom of the bottle, completely absorbed by the conflicting eddies he created by reversing the motion of his hand, watched the waves of muddy amber fluid collide and overturn one another.

"The princess has been given the information we supplied?"

"Yes." The man in khaki removed his own spectacles, cleaning them on his sleeve methodically before slipping them back over his ears. "She will probably go to the garage."

"So. She will find the first part of her riddle unraveled. If she survives." The man in the charcoal suit cleared his throat. "As to the other matter…"

The man in khaki waved his hand dismissively, as if this point, however vague, were of lesser importance. "Taken care of." He paused, studying the man with ice blue eyes intently before taking the last swallow of beer and setting the bottle down carefully in front of them. "There is no guarantee she will she will make an appearance, or, that if she does, it will effect the outcome in your favor."

Mr. Smith smiled, mostly to himself. "Of course. But the information was offered, and that offer will be remembered."

"And Kuga?"

The smile on Mr. Smith's face widened fractionally. "I'm sure the princess will find what she is looking for, with a little assistance. After all, we can't afford to let the District have the final say, can we. It wouldn't be… fair."

The man in khaki grunted. _Fair to whom. _"I suppose."

Mr. John Smith, chief of Searrs Foundation's public relations, tipped the empty beer bottle over on its side. "Checkmate."


	3. Chapter 3 : Down the Rabbit Hole

**Chapter 3**

Her fingers wrapped around the cup of tea she she'd prepared for herself, relaxing as much as she could. The room was dark, shadows lingering in the corners, whispering their secrets to disinterested ears. She wasn't interested in hearing what they had to say, any more than she was interested in her studies, or her continued position as president of the student body. Natsuki had firmly rejected her offer to remain behind a year, and so she'd moved on, because that was the logical thing to do. She'd even considered leaving Fuuka University, going abroad, perhaps to another country to further her studies, but in the end, she'd caved to the unspoken request in those emerald eyes. She'd stayed to be there for Natsuki, even if Natsuki was unable to accept the direction her affections wanted her to go. Natsuki wished it so.

Shizuru closed her eyes, basking in the limited comfort drinking tea provided; it was a known, an act she'd always retreated to when the stress of going on seemed more painful than standing in one place, in forgetting who she was. Stagnation was nothing new to her, only the focus had shifted. Life was full of affected tragedy. Hadn't the situation surrounding Tokhia's tragic, romantic comedy proved this? Life was full of misconception, the actions of a moment spilling over, dominating the flow of events with horrifying alacrity. It was better to stand perfectly still, cower in the shadows, and pray, pray the light would pass by without ripping away that darkness, demand truth be recognized, accepted. Standing still demanded all of her attention, all of her willpower to maintain.

_Natsuki._

It was easier to let go, to fall, end over end, into herself, so far down nothing could touch her. Bury herself in the rabbit hole, tic tic tic, forget the passage of time. Her body could exist without her mind, it had for longer periods of time. She would sit, always perfect, always calm, always collected, and the rest of the world would praise her for her ability, extol the virtues of this charade, while her thoughts consumed themselves, oroborus, ravenous, insatiable, until there was nothing left. She wanted to fall, wanted release, wanted to drop the mask, watch it shatter into countless shards, beautiful in their multi-faceted destruction.

She took another sip of tea, knowing she reflected none of these thoughts. She couldn't feel the expression on her face, but she didn't need to know which muscles shifted under the skin to know she radiated an aura of peaceful, collected composure. Her survival instinct was very strong, stronger than her will to abandon herself to the tremulous, frantic passion raging just below the surface, as a cat will soothingly purr, placating, when damaged beyond repair.

Lost in these thoughts, she wasn't aware of her fingers as her thumbs lightly traced the nearly invisible scars on her wrists, mute testimony of the only time survival and will had transposed themselves. Natsuki had battered down the bathroom door, found Shizuru sitting peacefully in an ever-expanding pool of her own cruor, humming a lullaby. The memory was disjointed, lacking the acute awareness normally associated with every moment she spent in her love's presence. Natsuki had been screaming at her _Why is Natsuki angry?_, slipping to one knee in the crimson slickness covering the tiled floor as she tried to rush to her side, managing the last few inches in an almost comical slide.

She could remember the expression on her face then. Love, pure and absolute, unfettered by the doubts, the self-loathing, the jealousies and injustices her mind had conjured up to explain why she wasn't worthy of Natsuki's affections. Such warm and accepting love. _Natsuki loves me. Natsuki's come to hold my hand, come to spend my last moments with me. How blessed I am._ She'd tried to stroke the pale-skinned cheek, managed to lift her arm half way before getting distracted by the terrible effort it took to move her limbs, the overwhelming lethargy, the need to sleep. The scent of blood was strong, sickeningly so, but blood was nothing new to her. She'd shed much blood.

Shizuru's memory ceased shortly after this. Perhaps she'd passed out, gone into shock as Natsuki lifted her in her arms. She vividly remembered how odd the world looked upside down, how this instance was so much a metaphor for her life – even the common, well known places, her bathroom, seemed so alien, so unfamiliar when it was inverted, and then her view had been cut off, her attempts to speak the words her heart wanted to express denied _as so many other things had been_ by mortal frailty, and those words, which she'd wanted to desperately to say, which she'd been so certain would erase the pain, the wounds, the distance between them, had drifted away with her, into the ether. _I understand. I understand, Natsuki. No more cage. My beautiful Natsuki is free._

A sound interrupted her reverie, impinged with annoying persistence, and Shizuru sighed, directing her attention to the screen of her laptop, a ghostly glow, vaguely illuminating the room at large, and Shizuru's face in particular as she leaned a bit closer to read the email she'd just received. She scanned the contents, her fingers gracefully dancing over the various keys needed to navigate the computer. _So._ She showed no outward sign of the instantaneous tumult the email's contents had thrown her into, her expression passive, the genteel upward curve of her lips indicating mild, respectful interest. One would have had to look closely indeed to catch the subtle twitch under her left eye. Russet hued eyes – eyes the color of drying blood.

One of her hands reached out and lightly brushed over the top of the screen, gently closing the laptop before returning to its previous position curled around the teacup. She breathed in the warmth of the rich, orange-jasmine steam, settling back into the chair. Poised, elegant, motionless. She lifted the cup to her lips and sipped quietly, lowering her lashes to block out the world, to hide the suddenly empty, emotionless quality of her stare. Her pain was hers alone; she would not share. She smiled, whispering into the darkness.

Nothing else mattered. "Natsuki."

She would not cry, she would not scream, she would remain perfectly still. Her fingers tightened around the teacup, white-knuckled, her arm trembling slightly. After all, this was a very good tea.

* * *

"Oi, anyone here?" Natsuki shifted her weight, tightened the muscles of her calves, pushed harder, and walked the motorcycle forward a few more inches. Bike was freaking heavy with the motor off. Deafening silence returned, and her eyebrows lowered over a deeper frown, mild curiosity replaced by a scowl of annoyance. _Just my effing luck; mechanic is probably off someplace munching on a chicken salad sandwich while he flips through his favorite doujinshi._

Oh well. She shrugged, angled the bike to fit through the open garage door, wrinkled her nose at the mingled scents of old, dusty motor oil and acrid anti-freeze. She craned her head to either side, hunted for possible hiding places for certain hentai-reading grease monkeys, searched the shadows without success. While it was true that none of the HiME's could see in pitch black, they could see just fine with the barest source of light, their perceptions bleeding from normal color recognition into monochrome between blinks, infinite shades of gray. _Except Mikoto. _Natsuki was firmly convinced _she_ operated mostly on some weird olfactory radar.

She sucked in a good lung-full of air to try again. "OI!" She waited, listened for the startled sound of someone dropping either a sandwich or a magazine, but the place was completely empty. She snorted in disgust. Some help this was, to send her to a deserted garage. _Hell with it, I'll fix the damn thing myself._ She draped the helmet over the handlebar, swinging her leg over the frame, her knee at the half way point, hovering just over the seat when she was thrown forward, the left half of her body suddenly much heaver than the rest of her. The side of her head connected with the cement, adding pain to confusion – her right foot was tangled in the handlebars somehow; she was lucky she hadn't landed face first.

These things registered in the seconds before her left shoulder slammed into the ground. Her world imploded into a maelstrom of writhing, white-sheeted agony. The pain drove the air from her lungs, severing the scream mid-howl. She fought to hold on to consciousness, rocking from side to side, her fingers wrapping themselves around the damaged arm. This wasn't right, wasn't safe to do. Not now. Blinking away the tears obscuring her vision, she pressed her lips together firmly to stifle inarticulate moans. She couldn't afford to give away her position. Focus was returning by degrees; she coughed up a mouthful of blood, choked on the remainder seeping up the back of her throat each time she inhaled.

_Easy… easy… _Natsuki ground her teeth, forcing shallow, even breaths. A soft hiss escaped as a second, stronger wave of pain rippled through her midsection, accompanying each movement as she began carefully pulling her foot free of the bike; she was teetering on the edge of passing out. _Not now._ Obviously, she'd been shot, and it was the force of the impact that knocked her over. Deciding there was little point in holding on to her injured arm – not like she could use it – she peeled her remaining functional fingers from their vise-like grip, pressing the damaged appendage as close to her body as she could to keep it out to the way while she did something useful; searching for an exit wound. Yeah, there it was. Below her shoulder and a hair to the left of her sternum. The rib had been broken, either cracked or shattered, she wasn't sure which, and the bullet or some fragment of rib punched a hole in her lung.

_Just a flesh wound, then; forgot to ask directions, took a left instead of a right at the scapula._ Choking on another mouthful of blood, she grimaced, rolling into a semi-crouch and scampering behind cover that wouldn't explode if a stray bullet struck the gas tank the wrong way; one of those rolling tool cabinets. She peeked around the side and was rewarded by a bullet singing through the air where her eye had been a fraction of a second earlier._ Shit_. A sniper? They could be anywhere… didn't even have to be in the building – the garage door was open, letting in plenty of over-cast light. And let's not forget infrared scopes.

The haft of a wrench caught her attention, sticking out of the lowest drawer; grabbing it, she cocked her arm, slid it loudly under the car adjacent to her hiding spot. Cement erupted near the car's front tire, spraying her with debris. She smiled humorlessly – the shooter was close by, either in the room or not far outside the door. He was using sounds to locate his target. The weapon fired .44 rounds, gauging by the size of the hole, probably a silenced handgun. She didn't hear a report, but she caught the sound of the casing as it hit the cement._ Hope his gun doesn't have semi-auto capabilities._

Natsuki felt around her pocket for the clip containing armor piercing rounds. Holding it gingerly between her teeth, she pulled a gun from behind her back, sweating as she switched the clips. Flicking off the safety, she silently praised all those endless hours of repetitive one-handed training she'd forced upon herself after learning her elements, much like her life, no longer functioned. She closed her eyes to filter the world through her ears, waiting, but it seemed her shooter wasn't going to be a good boy and move around for her. That was fine.

"If you hit my god damn bike, I'm going to stuff one of these gas cans up your ass and light it."

Talking was painful, but achieved the desired result – the rolling tool cart shuddered, one of the drawers clattering into the wall behind her. Eyes closed, her arm shifted its position and squeezed the trigger. She could sense the target, as if her consciousness were drawn along behind the bullet: it ripped through the thick metal door, past the restraining Kevlar vest, buried itself deep within meat and bone. His heart ruptured. He was dead before he could scream. She heard them breathing now, skittering around along the periphery of her senses, cat turned mouse, pulling in frightened gulps of air between shots. Her arm moved of it own accord, guided by instinct. Shift, fire, lower, fire, raise, fire, ignoring the chaos of destruction, the angry, terrified shouts.

More of them were pouring through the open door. She wondered how many she'd killed. Not enough. Her finger tightened on the trigger; the gun was empty. _Shit shit shit._ Was police intervention too much to ask? A passing good Samaritan with a submachine gun? She dove towards the promise of safety, through the yawning doorway and into the office area, shoving the oversized, rolling toolbox away from her with her foot, ramming it into the stomachs of her closest attackers. Snagging the bottom of her hair, a hand tried to haul her backwards, but she kicked the door closed before they could secure their grip. She was breathing hard, looking around herself like a caged animal. There was no way out. She ducked her head as bullets tore through the wall behind her, wondering if she could squeeze her way out of the tiny window above the desk without killing herself in the process.

_Like I really have a choice at this point._ She threw the gun through the window, effectively breaking it, and leapt for the opening, ignoring the tearing sensation somewhere below her breasts. _Christ, I hope that was the suit. _Gutting herself in the window, hanging half in and half out as she died, really wasn't what she had in mind. Someone grabbed her leg and she pushed, using their face as a springboard to work herself through those last few inches. Gravity did the rest.

She landed on her right side _there is a God, _fumbled for her dropped gun, and was struggling to get to her feet when she caught sight of the van across the street. A white van. A white van with the side panel door standing open, and a figure in full SWAT gear kneeling, almost directly in front of her. Her mouth opened to shout something, anything, but the words froze in her throat. The figure in combat gear was motioning with its free arm for her to get down. The other arm was supporting a drab, off-green tube over the shoulder. Her eyes widened in recognition and she dropped like a stone, covering her head with her good arm.

And then the world got very hot and she lost the ability to hear, and then she screamed as something both searing and heavy landed on her back, and then she knew no more.

* * *

Natsuki wasn't sure how long she'd been unconscious, but it couldn't have been too long. The sirens she could hear approaching hadn't actually arrived, and the air was still full of choking ash and the oily smell of burning petrol. Someone had moved her away from the wreckage which had once been a mechanic shop, propped her upright against a wall, left her gun and a small plastic box in her lap. She blinked stupidly, wondering where she was, and why the TV was so horribly loud when she didn't own a TV. _But this isn't TV, is it._ No.

She gathered the box and gun in one hand, limping away as fast as she could, before the police could arrest her for combat arson, or worse, for the media to show up and plaster her face all over the evening news. _No thank you. I've got enough to deal with without certain people finding out I was just involved in a bombing._ She shuddered, unwilling or unable to imagine what intensity of hell she'd receive. _Better the bomb had killed me._

Now that she was mobile, the real question, the sixty four million dollar question, was where to go next? Heading back to the bar looking like an extra from a Masami Akita film wasn't a good idea, and she had no intention of returning to her apartment until she was positive Nao had vacated the premises. She leaned against the wall for support, gasping. The pain of breathing had lessoned to the point where she was sure the lung tissue had sealed itself. But blood was still leaking from the open wounds, front and back, dripping from her fingertips, drenching the left side of her body in a gory sheen.

Horror film aesthetics aside, she wasn't concerned about getting medical treatment. She'd be fine in a day or so – probably not even a scar. She just need a quiet place to rest while her body repaired itself, with enough food and water to sustain the process. _Too bad Mai isn't around any more, I miss her cooking._ It wasn't until after the carnival that Natsuki really started to understand Mikoto's bottomless stomach. Natsuki's own abilities to survive and regenerate damage was fairly high amongst the HiMEs, hence her accelerated metabolism, and her _some say_ _unhealthy_ addiction to mayonnaise. But that girl, she'd been nearly indestructible. _No wonder she ate like a horse. _Natsuki smirked, thinking that however amusing these thoughts were, they weren't going to solve the problem; she needed a place to go, very soon, or her body would simply shut down where she stood.

_You could always go see Shizuru,_ her mind whispered sensibly, and just as sensibly she told herself to shut the hell up. There was one last place she could go, not so far away from where she was. She grunted, not happy with the situation, but it couldn't be helped. She just hoped one of them was home.


	4. Chapter 4 : Riptide

**Chapter 4**

The girl sat up abruptly, blinking her rather large, owlish eyes. One moment she'd been asleep and now… _Am I still asleep?_ She ran her fingers through her short, everlasting sleep mussed hair, rubbed her forearm across her eyes. _No, not anymore._ Hovering at the fringe of wakefulness, she blindly reached for her glasses, fumbled, finally managing to pick them up without spilling them off the nightstand. Trying to slip them on with one hand, she glanced anxiously over at the sleeping form beside her. She bit her lip, holding her breath as the figure shifted in her sleep, one arm flopping over to cover the recently vacated space, grabbed the pillow and curled herself around it, murmuring in contentment.

Yukino smiled shyly, enjoying the view, tracing the outlines of the sleeping figure's face with loving eyes, from long, golden hair to the firm, resolute hold she had on the pillow as she pulled it securely into the protection of her body. It was something she'd never dared dream possible, especially considering… well, considering the particular uncompromising mindset of her partner, but sometimes fate was kind, and even stone could bend. It wasn't always easy being with Haruka, one step forward for two steps back. She was brusque and intolerably forthright, lacked the sensitivity which might make their relationship less of a challenge.

Sometimes it seemed as though it was doomed to failure, sometimes Yukino hoped it would fail, as she sat alone, crying, waiting for Haruka to work her way through her frequent temper-tantrums. Sometimes it seemed as though the growing pains would tear her heart apart, but in the end… if she was very very patient, if she remained quiet in the face of the raging storm, it would pass. Haruka would make love to her as a form of apology, sweeping her along, carrying her away, and in the morning, the skies were so achingly clear. She leaned over and pulled a few stray strands of hair away from the sleeping girl's face, tucking them behind an ear before rising to investigate what had awakened her.

There it was again, a weak, rhythmic sound, as if someone were lightly knocking on the front door. She hesitated, debated waking Haruka – she was so much better at dealing with crisis, _at 2 am, what else could it be?_ but decided against it. Haruka was also temperamental, and prone to judgment before the jury arrived. She slipped into a robe, knotting it as she walked cautiously towards the door. _I could always just go back to bed…_ The knock repeated and Yukino fidgeted, reached to unlock the door, opening it a crack. Her eyes widened, almost swallowing her face as she recognized the disheveled, obviously wounded woman dripping blood across their front walkway.

"Natsuki!"

She looked exhausted, not just battered and bleeding. Her head was hanging down; she didn't raise it, though Yukino suspected she knew her name had been called. The waist length ebony hair, snarled and matted, hung limply in front of her unnaturally pale skin. Natsuki's face was devoid of color, except for the dark, bruised looking hollows surrounding her emerald eyes, and the florid, feverish patches staining her cheeks. Her gaze slipped downward, taking in the familiar leather bikesuit, almost shredded across Natsuki's midsection, revealing long, raw scrapes. She followed one of these wounds until it dipped deeply into the flesh, wincing. Even covered with blood as it was, she thought she caught a flash of white buried amidst the gaping red mass, and she stepped back raising a trembling hand to her lips, wondering if that was pelvic bone.

Natsuki swallowed painfully. "Yo. I was wondering…" Her voice sounded very far away to herself; she had the sinking suspicion she was going to pass out at any moment. She bit her tongue to stay in the here and now long enough to finish her sentence. "Wondering if I could stay here for … a… little while. It won't be for long, so maybe… maybe it would be ok." Her prediction came true.

Yukino stepped forward reflexively, catching her old school mate in her arms awkwardly as she pitched forward. Something clattered to the ground as Natsuki went limp; she found herself mildly unsurprised it was a gun. She staggered under the taller girl's weight, swaying until she managed to reach a clumsy equilibrium, half carrying, half dragging her into the hallway, where she coaxed Natsuki to the carpet. She then went to retrieve the fallen objects, locked the front door, set the box and gun on the coffee table, and started pacing, chewing on a nail as she glanced from the unconscious form currently staining their living room rug to the gun and back again.

She had no idea how to handle this situation, she never had, not even when she'd been a… while she'd been in school. Considering the extenuating circumstances, variables she wasn't willing to explore because they didn't exist, she doubted Haruka would know what to do either. She'd insist Kuga needed medical attention, not now, five minutes ago, and that could get very… complicated, very quickly. Her pacing grew more animated as the panic of not knowing how to proceed threatened to overturn her carefully constructed reality, and she was already dialing before her mind caught up with the implications of her actions.

The soft, almost velvety Kyoto accent nearly sent her into hysterics. "Kikukawa-san, what an unexpected surprise."

* * *

Natsuki drifted between realities, moaning to herself as the dream, her never-ending, reoccurring nightmare, replayed itself behind her eyelids. Her fingers flexed, her hand reaching, reaching…

"…don't really know what happened…"

_Please, don't leave me, please oh please, I'm sorry. _

"Yukino!"

She thrashed, whimpering as physical discomfort interjected itself._ Please…_

"…are you doing here, Fujino?"

Her hand clutched at her side, her lungs filled with the shades of burning air. _Take…_

"…please, Haruka…"

Her mind struggled to drag her awake. _Take me…_

"…where is she?"

Some part of herself detached from the memory, hearing familiarity amidst the low toned conversation happening around her, screaming for her to wake up.

"…and you let her in?"

_Take me with you, _"Shizuru!"

"Natsuki?" She'd recognize that intoxicating, wounded voice anywhere. Rich, evocative, alive with worry and fear. _But why? Ahh, I must be hurt._ She tried to sit up and cried out, gritting her teeth as she fell backwards into the reassuring warmth of waiting arms. _Definitely hurt. _Natsuki's pain was the only thing that could banish the soft spoken, teasing tone; the only thing that breached the unfailing, surreal calm Shizuru wrapped around herself.

Natsuki's eyelids fluttered. "Shizuru." It came out in a labored, plaintive whine, sounding more like a whimper than a greeting, and she bit her lower lip in frustration. "Why…" Her voice trailed off as cool fingers stroked her cheek; so gentle, so soothing. An unconscious smile curved her lips, her features smoothing under the comforting ministrations.

"Natsuki doesn't have to ask why, she already knows." Shizuru's words dropped to the barest of whispers. "I love Natsuki. I promised to protect Natsuki for as long as she lives."

So easy to be lulled by that passionate, melodic voice, so easy to forget the scars had been born from a wound or, if unforgotten, who'd inflicted them, Shizuru or herself. She closed her eyes, allowing this brief luxury; being in the arms of the one she craved most, undemanding, forgiven, loved. _So simple._ Shizuru returned her smile, and it was a thing of painful beauty: blameless adoration, unfettered by the nuance of social interpretation. Love was love. Natsuki missed her so. Shizuru brushed fingers through her hair, and Natsuki turned her head, resting it against Shizuru's breast, drifting into the rhythm of her breath.

"You haven't answered my question! Why are you here? Why is _she_ here, bleeding all over my carpet?"

Shizuru lifted the hand she'd been working through Natsuki's hair firmly to silence Haruka's tirade, not raising her head to acknowledge the irate, golden haired woman standing more closely than was acceptable. Haruka hadn't changed – she recalled this same petulant, overbearing expression twisting her face each time they'd spoken in the past.

Haruka shifted her stance, defiantly resting her hands on her hips; she despised being ignored, especially by this woman.

"Haruka, please… I'm sure Natsuki," Yukino swallowed anxiously as the object of her comments turned stormy lavender eyes oh her, as if daring her to take Fujino's side. _There aren't any sides, Haruka… why can't you accept that? _

"What the hell are you thinking? Stop this nonsense, immediately. Can't you see she needs to be in the hospital? Why are you sitting there acting like nothing is wrong? Do you think you are so all powerful that you can bring her back from death on a whim?"

Shizuru raised her head sharply, and Yukino took several steps back, vividly remembering the last time she'd seen this exact air, this slow, inexorable building of contemptuous fury marring the otherwise complacent expression the kaichou _ex-kaichou _perpetually wore. She knew it was a trick of the lighting, but she swore those eyes had turned bright, arterial red. She couldn't stand to stare too long into their depths; something dangerous – cold, lacking pity or remorse – twisted sinuously just below the surface.

Shizuru's lips thinned as she glanced at Haruka, from crown to toes, as if wondering how far she could throw her without straining something, before she managed to reign in her temper. Now was not the time. She turned those frighteningly red eyes on the timid brown haired girl, giving her a silent, but wholly understood warning. _Muzzle your dog – or I will._

Completely oblivious to the greater portion of the underlying, silent communication between the bubuzuke woman and Yukino, Haruka did realize _something_ was going on. She wrapped her arms around Yukino's waist, pulling the smaller girl snugly, possessively into her body.

Haruka wasn't the only one who'd noticed differences in the atmosphere; Shizuru frantically grasped the raged edges of her self-imposed calm, willing herself into passivity. "I see. Your relationship seems to have changed somewhat from the last time we spoke, Suzushiro-san, " she teased, and Yukino blushed, dropping her eyes.

Yukino took a nervous breath and continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. She spoke as softly, as soothingly as she could, taking one of Haruka's hands, drawing her away to relative safety. "I'm sure Kuga-san will be alright… and… Fujino-san has come to take her to the hospital, haven't you?" _Please say yes, please accept this ruse and take Natsuki with you. I couldn't stand this any more._

Shizuru nodded, smiling to her 'hosts' as she rose, cradling Natsuki in her arms as a mother would her child. Her back arched just far enough that Natsuki's head remained resting on her chest. Shizuru didn't want to wake her – she needed sleep, and rest, and quiet. All of which she could provide, once she'd removed Natsuki from this den of emotional masochists and boorish, small-minded dictators.

Yukino extracted herself from Haruka's embrace, quickly gathering the raven-haired girls dropped possessions. She escorted the pair to Shizuru's car, opening the doors for them, and dropped the contents of her hands into the passenger seat, already feeling more at ease. _No one wants to dance with a starved tiger._

"Yukino, you should drive them to the emergency room. I'm sure Fujino will have her hands full trying to keep Kuga from bouncing around…" Haruka stood in the doorway, for once seeming hesitant, unsure of herself. It was true, she wanted the bubuzuke woman and her whore out of their lives, preferably for good this time, but she knew what was right, and what was wrong. Kuga was seriously injured; she needed to be looked after by a professional as quickly as possible.

Shizuru painstakingly arranged Natsuki on the back seat, pausing just long enough to kiss the pale, dirt-smeared forehead before closing the door. She looked up at Haruka. "Ara, ara, Haruka-chan's concern is so touching, but we don't need any further assistance." She paused, as if terribly amused with herself, the hint of a smile creeping into her tone. She was sure neither could tell if she were being sarcastic, sincere, or some blending of the two, and this pleased her even more. She turned, taking a half step to close the distance, and embraced a very startled Yukino in an affectionate hug. "Thank you for calling, Kikukawa-san," she whispered fiercely, pretense set aside. Haruka scowled.

Shizuru waved a hand in parting to the disgruntled blond, getting into the car and driving away without another word, leaving the blushing brunette to wonder… had it merely been an act of appreciation? Yukino glanced up at her huffing partner, noting the narrowed, almost envious eyes, the arms crossed defensively across her chest. Perhaps, but she thought not.


	5. Chapter 5 : Circuity

**A/N:** Firstly, to address the many muzzy, wonderful comments I've received – to all, what a warm, delightful welcome! I'm so deliriously relieved. To others who write in this forum – play on, McDuff! You are my inspiration and muses. Write, write I say, lest my creativity wither away.

**Silent Ee:** Ooooo! Kawaii! I love a challenge (as long as I'm fairly sure I'll win). I give you a rose as I bow; I will do my very best to finish the dance. What you do with me afterwards I leave to the imagination.

**CarrotLunch:** Oh, I have every intention of updating, as promptly as my anal-retentive, perfectionism allows. Have no fear.

**Felisse:** To my beloved editor – you do me too much honor. Do it again.

**Astarael00:** So glad you liked it! Wow is quite complete, a gestalt of appreciation. Many thanks. And I concur! Read, breath life into the words, give meaning to the writer's soul. Praise me silly, if such I deserve; I'm cute when I'm blessed out.

**Zelene2004:** We have something in common – I can't wait to read the next chapter either. ;)

**Kiltmandu:** Alas, I bend, but staunchly maintain. I'm so insufferable. I shall continue to strive for keeping the characters as they should be, with as little interference from my overactive imagination as possible.

**Betsunii:** I'm so glad you liked it! I worked very hard to keep it consistent with the anime, along with adding details that seemed to lend themselves well to my vision for the story. If you enjoy this as much as the original I'm complete.

**Shigan:** Forgive me while I go giddy; I'm one of your more ardent fans. Your Noir stories took my breath away. Domo arigatoo gozaimas. If angst was the meaning of life, I'd want 42 flavors. ;)

**Alida: **Yukino is a fun character; I'm just relieved I didn't bollix her up. I'm surprised to find myself a pioneer in the realm of Shizuru having suicidal inclinations; someone with that depth of passion, denied outlet, is the poster child for escapists everywhere.

**AkenoJou:** Hai. My entire being cries out for a happy ending. As Felisse mentioned, I haven't been this mental over a couple since Willow lost Tera. I curse Whedon still.

**Nocturne:** San kyuu! As long as you (and others) enjoy, I will sharpen my best pencil, and sketch the canvas of my delight. Fate is fortune's fool, irony both mote and beam – as long as it do not offend, I will pluck dark humor from my mind's eye. As for hiding, I'm a Mogwaii at heart. We're like roaches – we're afraid of the light.

**Johnny, D, Sora and HikkiDesuYo: **Thou art too kind. I like that in a person.

This chapter is about gluttonous emotion; one step ahead, one step to the side; closer and closer they glide. It is not plot-centric, but it does open the door to my goal. We shall explore the mystery further in the next chapter, my precioussss. For now, gather round everyone, the dance is about to begin.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

_Shizuru, it hurts… Make the pain go away. I've become so numb._

Shizuru carried her sleeping charge up the steps in front of the low, sprawling building; apartments set aside as guest quarters for board members and other high ranking, or exceptionally generous personages who might visit Fuuka Academy. It was convenient – only a few blocks from the campus itself, nestled in a relaxing, well maintained garden area; she'd claimed stewardship over the spacious lower apartments almost immediately. Such a dwelling provided the solitude necessary for Shizuru's continued peace of mind, or so the board of trustees believed.

They'd also given her a car, insisting she needed the additional freedom to pursue the responsibilities she'd gradually promised to assist with: overseeing the endowment, vetting the budget, managing public relations with the surrounding community, luring prize students into Fuuka Daigaku's trophy case. Their generosity humbled her; she'd accepted these gifts with a respectful smile, lowering her head modestly. Natsuki called it favoritism, bribery, extortion. Shizuru had countered with, "But who is coercing whom?" These things didn't concern her – she was only taking her due.

Settling her precious one comfortably on the couch, she went into the kitchen, making a thick broth, rich with pureed meats, grains and vegetables, and of course, Natsuki's beloved mayonnaise. She warmed it to body temperature and returned to the living room, attempting to entice her reticent, raven-haired beauty to eat.

"Open your mouth, Natsuki. Natsuki must to eat, or she won't get better." The unconscious girl drifted close to reality for a few moments before wandering back to her own private world, leaving Shizuru to try another tactic.

"Natsuki needs to eat, or she won't be allowed to ride her motorcycle." This evoked even less of a response, and Shizuru sighed. "Ara, so stubborn... It will be most unenjoyable for me to feed Natsuki as if she were a baby chick, from mouth to mouth, because I hate mayo. But I will." Natsuki's head lolled forward, her mouth partially open as she tried to articulate her protests to the implied threat. Shizuru was convinced a deeper flush stained her cheeks e_ven now, when she's half dead_.

"Ssssszzzuuu-ru!" The words came out in a strengthless whisper, bringing a smile to her lips. If Natsuki was well enough to chastise her for teasing, she would survive, and even more gratifying, Shizuru was finally able to lift the bowl to her lips, long-sufferingly urging her patient to swallow until the contents was gone.

She then frowned, cataloging the injuries and their recuperative progress. The wound above her breast had closed, but Natsuki's breathing was still phlegmy, as if her lungs were filled with fluid. The upper part of her left arm was broken, but would be easily set. Shizuru ran her fingers over the swelling under Natsuki's hair, making sure the split skin was mending, and that the skull itself remained intact. She nodded, moving on to the more dangerous wounds – the ones across Natsuki's ribcage; long, angry scrapes, and below those, perilously deep cuts, from navel to groin, the most acute baring bone. Shizuru winced in spite of her healer's detachment _Oh, Natsuki…_ as she felt along the exposed muscle, removing splinters of glass.

Shizuru bit her lip. "Natsuki? I need to clean away the blood, to make sure Natsuki doesn't have injuries I missed." The younger woman groaned as Shizuru lifted her into her arms once more, carrying her to the bathroom. She carefully stripped the semi-conscious girl, averting her eyes as she lowered her into the bathtub and turned the handle on the shower, working away the crusted blood with a washcloth. Shizuru let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, relieved that the abrasions were localized; Natsuki didn't appear any more broken than she'd discovered in her earlier investigation. _I'm glad; I was so worried._

Shizuru reached for a bottle of shampoo, spread it over the blue-black strands, massaging the lather through Natsuki's hair as she continued bathing her. She turned off her thoughts, relaxed into the motions of her hands, forgetting where they placed themselves as best as she could. Time passed in a sort of dreamlike blur, an hour in a minute, seconds pulling themselves through the eye of a needle, leaving a lingering, melancholy hunger in their wake. A familiar ache, one which Shizuru was well acquainted with, as if they were old friends, who, having spent too long apart, delighted in conversation, reliving old woes, licking each others' wounds, addicted to the flavor of one another's longing. It resonated within her, brought her so close to losing control, so close to giving in to the yearning – to be close to Natsuki, to hold her in her arms, pet her cheeks, memorize oft fantasized curves with her lips.

"_Natsu…ki…"_ _"No!"_ Her world shattered in that single, horrified phrase, crumbled to ash as her dearest one recoiled from her outstretched hand; Shizuru hadn't died in the rupturing might of their Childs' explosion. _Forgive me. _She died in that moment of naked infidelity, Natsuki hugging herself in violated disbelief – completely betrayed, completely bereft; Shizuru's sanity guttered to nothing in the reflective, verdant pools staring at her in mute despair. Natsuki hadn't needed to speak, her mind's tongue gave voice to the suffering she'd inflicted.

_I'm so lost; I can't understand anything any more. Mother's betrayal, my own obliviousness – how could you? The world wasn't right, nothing was right, but I had you. Shizuru… How could you defile me, sacrifice our trust? How could I have been so blind, so wrapped up in my own selfish vendetta? Did I lead you on? Did we get so close – almost touching, never apart – that this was the only way for you to show me your heart? How could you hurt me like this, when all I've ever know, all I'd ever believed in… wasn't true? Shizuru, it hurts._

_Natsuki. _It was difficult to deny, but she was more practiced at remaining still than she'd once been. Howl though they might, these sibilant urgings remained unfulfilled. Those pains, the ones she inflicted through love, were the hardest to heal. The guilt plagued her still.

* * *

Shizuru sat in the chair, trying to distract herself by reading, pretending she wasn't worriedly watching the thrashing form on the bed. Nervousness was contagious. She could remain motionless, but letting go to the point of closing her eyes seemed absurd – she had too many things to do; she could do nothing at all. She'd finished lovingly combing the tangles from the silky midnight tresses, dressed her love in soft, comfortable sleeping clothes. Fed her twice more, whispering affectionate approval, petting her hair as the restless hours of Natsuki's slumber stretched long into the infinity of the second day.

She sat, far enough away to prove her innocent intentions should Natsuki awaken, but close enough rush back, drowning under the frantic internal pressures _my Natsuki, all mine – not mine, she pushed me away_, to perch on the edge of the bed, murmuring formless reassurance. Shizuru vibrated under the strain; her breathing turned ragged, painful, as the weight drug her into the undertow. She set the book aside, rising. She needed tea, needed to arrest the endless monologue of shame, something to choke her thoughts, ease the ache.

_I'm so tired; why it is never enough? Please, take me with you. Don't turn away, don't leave me… I'm trying as hard as I can, to give you what you need. Running as fast as I can to catch up. I don't understand anything any more._

"Shizuru! No! Don't leave."

"Natsuki, please," she breathed; she was pleading, begging – a lovers prayer. She could hear it in her voice, the stabbing grief, the hopelessness. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, silently running down her cheeks; she trembled violently as her feet carried her forward. _I'm coming, Natsuki. _Of course she would stay. Natsuki wished it so.

She succumbed to the quiet, yearning sobs, brushing the sweat dampened hair from her forehead. She allowed Natsuki's searching hands to find her, pull her into their crushing embrace, closing her eyes against the flood of tears, the ocean of her own dejection. She accepted this for what it was: the price of her folly, the penance for her sin, in rapture enraptured, in agony despised. Natsuki would reject Shizuru once she'd recovered, close arms around herself in disgust, turn her face away, her expression caught somewhere between confusion and mistrust. _So._ For now, she was needed and Shizuru borrowed against the coming loneliness.

She was happy; she was complete. Shizuru hummed softly, a half-remembered lullaby, something comforting, wiping away her tears with shaking fingers. She shifted in Natsuki's embrace so she was facing away, away from that reassured, pacific smile, away from the scorned promise of release. She continued humming, rocking softly as she covered Natsuki's arms with her own, lying along her stomach. She faced the darkened, empty room. _I'm so happy. I'm so happy. So happy, I could die._

* * *

Natsuki's face was buried in something warm and downy, something that slipped around her face like satin whenever she moved. It was pliant, making way for her as nestled deeper into the faint, spicy aroma of drying tealeaves. She smiled; it reminded her lying in a field, side by side with Shizuru, her hands laced under her head, eyes closed, enjoying the scent of lilacs as they baked under the noonday sun. _I never knew recuperating could be this relaxing._ She yawned, stretching muscles a bit sore from imposed dormancy, starting with the toes and working her way up, and realized that her face wasn't the only part of her body pressed against this satisfying warmth. From the tops of her thighs upward, she was molded to a comfortable, evocative weight, curled over and around it as it ran alongside her. _Damn, Shizuru has the best comforters. The lifestyle of the privileged never fails to astound and annoy me. Rich bastards._

She trailed her fingers over her stomach languidly, continuing to stretch, until her mind registered two things that had, up until this moment, seemed unimportant. Her arm was draped _over_ the warmth she was cozied to, therefore in completely the wrong position to be touching her own stomach, and tactile recognition was missing – the skin was more giving than her own, felt delicate, sensual to the touch. The hand arrested its upward movement as her fingers encountered the unmistakable lower curve of chest where she had none. Panic overshadowed all other synaptic response, froze her with dread.

Her ears, obstinately refusing to allow her mind to continue its realization process _ohmigod ohmigod no, this can't be happening_, and to save herself from passing out from severe circulatory relocation, focused mercifully on the strange sound they were hearing, trying to place it. It was like a cross between one of her former teachers clearing their throat to get a student's attention when they was busily gathering wool, or in her case, thinking about what modifications to the fuel injection system she was going to experiment with next, and the wheezy, hacking sound a cat makes when it has a very large, very stubborn, very nasty hairball. What was even more remarkable to Natsuki, in retrospect, was that she was making it.

_If I don't open my eyes, this never happened. That works, right? Sure. I was just minding my own business, coming back from the dead, and these… breasts, they attacked me._ Natsuki started giggling and couldn't seem to stop; every time she tried, the image of Kiyohime as a giant mammary with hissing snake tentacles popped into her head and that was it, she fell back into her hysterical giggling fit. _So this is what losing your mind is like._

"Shhhhh… Natsuki's having a nightmare; go back to sleep."

Natsuki grunted disbelievingly – her dreams had never told her to go back to sleep before. Deciding she couldn't postpone any longer, Natsuki opened her eyes. Her face was snugly pressed into Shizuru's neck, lips almost touching the hollow of her throat. Her arm was indeed resting across the pale, slightly concave symmetry of Shizuru's stomach, as if the captive in her arms was holding her breath, holding very still. One of Natsuki's legs was casually thrown over Shizuru's, firmly holding her right where Natsuki wanted her. _Stop squirming around, dammit, I just got comfortable. Oh no, no no no. So wrong. _Could it get any worse? Of course it could; the arm atop Shizuru had worked its way under the silk nightshirt she wore. Natsuki's hand was curled into a small, unassuming ball somewhere between Shizuru's breasts.

Her head jerked up to appreciate the full injustice of the moment, shock displacing internal distress. She was pretty sure her mouth was hanging open, trap without a hinge, but other than that, she had no idea what sort of expression she wore – her face was so suffused with blood it had entered a state of tingly numbness. Her upper lip tickled. The hand between Shizuru's breasts self-consciously slid out from under the nightshirt all on its own, lifting to scratch the itch. Her fingers came away wet, smeared with crimson.

Natsuki had never moved so quickly in her life – she leapt across the floor between the bed and the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it before she began her half-sobbed, half-screamed words of apology.

"Gomennasai! Gomennasai! GomenShizuru! Gomennasai!"

She was never going to live this down; never ever ever… Shizuru wouldn't let her; the demon-woman would find some way to write it into her eulogy, right after she died of a terminal case of chagrin.

* * *

Shizuru blinked in surprise as the door thumped shut. She had no idea the feisty, sullen woman could escape with such blinding speed. She must have cried herself to sleep in Natsuki's arms, and the rest… just happened. She struggled against her innate, baiting nature, not answering the frantic pleas coming from the bathroom, instead appreciating the full justice of the moment, and found herself giggling; an entirely unnatural reaction.

She covered her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to stifle the sounds. Natsuki was already embarrassed; adding to it might well lead to cerebral hemorrhaging, or worse, she might never come out of the bathroom at all, opting for a life of seclusion amongst the toiletries. That would never do – she wanted to see Natsuki again. The wide-eyed moment of horror, before her face burst into flame, had been so terribly cute.

Her Cheshire smile widened as she sat up and adjusted her nightshirt into a less provocative, less revealing position. This was a moment to savor – single-word-teasing ammunition to evoke delightfully Pavlovian embarrassment. It was bound to have a reaction rivaling that of the sour, scandalized, righteously indignant looks Natsuki got on her face each time Shizuru jokingly mentioned her impromptu Marilyn Monroe impersonation, the victim of petty thievery and a singularly tempestuous gust of wind. _Ah, Mai. What I wouldn't have given to be in your shoes. To have Natsuki wearing my underwear._ She sighed, a hand rising to her cheek as she blushed wistfully.

Such ran Shizuru's thoughts as she busied herself with making the bed and straitening the room. Perhaps she would convince herself not to bring up this particular affair; the memory was more than enough. The blush across her cheeks grew rosier. Enough to disregard the enjoyment of Natsuki's touch, though she knew she'd drown in these sensations later. Enough to alleviate the depression she'd felt closing in, suffocating her, echoing past failures – crouching alone in the corner as she opened her wrists, humming the same tuneless lullaby. It was enough.

She walked to the closed door, and, noticing the apologies had ceased, knocked lightly.

"Natsuki should bathe while she's in there. I'll lay out some clothes, and put them on the end of the bed." She paused, listening for some sort of reply. "Natsuki?" Shizuru could hear her moving around, but she was probably still too embarrassed to speak. _Considering…_ A small sound of pleasure escaped between her lips.

She knocked again. "What would Natsuki like to eat? Something American? Something greasy?" She paused a second time, sighing. "I'm not angry, it was just a surprise to be awakened in such a…" _pleasant fashion._

"Shut up!"

"Nothing happened, Natsuki…"

"SHUT UP!" The door rattled violently as something large slammed against it, followed shortly thereafter by quiet reverberations.

Shizuru laid her fingertips on the wood, as if stroking someone's hair. The voice had been much closer the second time. Shizuru suspected Natsuki was leaning with her back against the door, arms crossed, scowling fiercely. She continued to pet the wood where she imagined the back of Natsuki's head banged itself in frustration.

"Mmmm. Natsuki is so cruel; I'll think she doesn't care for me if I have to eat alone."

"Baka."

Shizuru smiled affectionately. "Ahh, she does love me. Maybe Natsuki will even offer a smile for taking care of her these past few days?"

"Put clothes on the bed and go away. I can't stand wearing your robes. Silk gets all clingy after a shower."

"Does Natsuki find me too attractive in my silk robes after a shower?"

"GO AWAY!"

And, after laying out the clothes she'd bought for Natsuki, in two small, perfect piles, she did exactly that.


	6. Chapter 6 : Speculations

**A/N:** Once again, I attempt to stroke the hands that feed me. I do so love the feedback – an endless source of mysterious entrapment, a symbiotic bond connecting one mind, one heart, one soul to those who partake of it, returning affection for affection, for pleasure's sake. We enjoy together, and that is as it should be.

**Keili: **I can't express how much your praise means; that this story piqued your interest is more than I'd hoped. I cannot accept your apologies, but I will gladly steal your words of encouragement and run. Aren't all emotional paramours thieves at heart?

**Astarael00: **I, too, felt very strongly for the characters in this chapter. I weep for their timid, fumbling steps towards one another, I glory in their pain. I hope to continue portraying them perfectly, or, if not without flaw, at least within the permissible range of their personalities. (p.s.) Sorry if the update was a little late, this chapter was almost twice the length, and three times as hard to finish – interaction and dialogue I have no trouble with. Plot advancement is a challenge.

**Silent Ee: **Flowers in the attic, mortuary of the soul. Dance more, my precious. Aggressive flirtation is my gift, my boon, my curse. I'm here with you in the darkness until the end. I'm not sure even I know the way through the garden of good and evil, but I'll do my best to lead.

**HikkiDesuYo: **Thank goodness someone caught that. I enjoy tipping my hat to anime. If I hadn't been aiming for as realistic a fiction as I could create, why, I'd have had Natsuki drench the sheets with her nosebleed. Yes, she was that amorously effected. Can't say as I blame her.

**Alida:** Humor is the best medicine for melancholy. The series also attempted to balance dark and light, half by half as they lay. I only hope I do half so well. A blushing Shizuru is indeed most most yumminess. ;)

**Nocturne: **Again, you honor me with your presence. Poetic prose is a passion of mine. I'm glad you didn't feel overwhelmed (or under whelmed, which is almost worse). I'm a most unstructured writer; stream of consciousness creativity comes naturally to me. The hard part is making it comprehensible to someone outside my head.

**Kiltmandu: **Ahh, my precious muse. I am a slave to the puppy dog eyes. I hope you enjoy this one as well.

**Interstate 405:** Your encouragement worked wonders! As have all the wonderful reviews. Please, help me keep the characters in character – this is my biggest fear. You are correct! I was watching amidst the rafters, bathing in the words and worlds of the other astounding artists on this board. A happy fangirl is a well fed fangirl. I hope my table sates.

**Laurendw:** My heart bleeds where the red fern grows, in the hollow halls, behind the hills. I suspect that's where I keep my Shizuru, bound and shackled to her misery until the princess comes to release her from her captivity. I continue to strive for perfection, and fail – but sometimes… it's a good failure.

**Unit 667 Ra: **I was giggling the entire time I wrote that section; I'm glad it amused you as well. Props to everyone who's ever used breast humor in their fictions – you were all, each and every one, completely responsible for that scene. Shame on you. Nao wins! Flawless Victory.

**Xsojix, blackknight86, Shannon, AkenoJou, Sora, D, Johnny:** I'm really glad you've enjoyed the ride thus far. Cheer on! I live head scritches. ;)

This chapter is my rather feeble effort to tiptoe through the plotholes, offer some insights into what may be, if it may, and my enjoying the hell out of the characters themselves. Sometimes I let my enjoyment get the better of me. Bear with if it seems too long, too confusing, or too trite. I was really trying – honest I was, and should it not live up to its predecessors, I can only sigh and try a different tactic next time around. Let me know if I'm skewing the characters too badly. Cheers everyone! I hope you enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 6 **

Natsuki locked the bedroom door. She didn't take the time to introspect _why_ she felt it was necessary – she knew perfectly well Shizuru wouldn't return, but it made her feel better anyway. She sighed and fell back on the bed, thumping her forehead with the heel of her palm. _Idiot, idiot, idiot!_ Why did everything get so complicated when Shizuru was around? It was like… like she carried calamity around for a parasol. Natsuki wanted her guns. No, she wanted her elements, but guns would do.

She closed her eyes, angrily yanking off the towel she'd worn from the bathroom and tossed it across the room, letting her hand wander over the clothes she'd been left. _Do I want to look? No… not really._ Maybe Shizuru had gone to her apartment, picked up some of her own clothing? It was possible. _Please don't be a dress. If she got me a dress to wear, I swear, I'll never speak to her again._ Her fingers curled over the garment, pulling it closer, and opened her eyes. It wasn't a dress – it was a hooded, long sleeved T-shirt, off-gray in color. Intrigued, Natsuki sat up, examining the other articles of clothing. Delicately laced light blue bra with matching panties, black jeans, a pair socks and high top sneakers. _Not bad._ She gave in to her compulsion and slipped the underwear through her fingers, blushing slightly. _Oooooh, nice! Expensive._

The second pile of clothes caught her attention as she dressed. One arm in the shirt, one arm out, she lowered her head to examine them. It was a riding suit – black and leather, with forest green and wine accenting. Natsuki finished dressing quickly and picked up the top, holding it in front of her as she appraised herself in the mirror, almost obscenely pleased. _Stylish, sleek._ She checked for pockets and found a variety of places to stash things. _Functional._ It was much heavier than the one she'd been wearing, and better tanned – the added thickness would offset the suppleness nicely. It lacked the high sheen of processed leather, more resembling suede. She'd never seen anything quite so perfect in her life. _It's almost better than the underwear. Almost._

Grinning with satisfaction, she opened the door and found Shizuru standing calmly in front of her, one hand raised as if she were about to knock on the door. She took a step forward and gave the taller woman a brief, excited hug before she could stop herself. The stupid grin remained. She tried to recover the legacy of her reserved, aloof demeanor, let her arms drop as she retreated to the bedside, occupying herself with refolding the suit before she made a bigger ass of herself.

"Ahh. Natsuki's other suit was ripped. I thought… she might find this one an adequate replacement."

The dark haired girl let her glance slide sideways, contemplating her friend's expression: it was surprised, expectant, acquisitive. She was blushing. Natsuki redoubled her efforts to fold the suit as compactly as possible. She didn't hear the footsteps, but Shizuru was suddenly there, wrapping arms around her middle enthusiastically, causing her to stumble forward a step. The devil-woman's hands locked around her stomach and Natsuki pushed her backwards with her shoulders.

"Shizuru!" _Why does that always come out sounding like overacted vaudevillian dialogue?_

Shizuru settled her chin on Natsuki's shoulder. She waited to see if the shorter woman would attempt an escape, but Natsuki seemed content to stay as they were, and Shizuru relaxed, sighing. "I'm glad Natsuki likes what I picked out for her." She didn't expect a response to this comment, and she received none. But she thought the body in her arms rocked closer, leaned further into their mingled warmth for a second.

"Is Natsuki ready to talk about the explosion at the garage yet?" Natsuki stiffened, stepping out of the embrace. _How the hell…_ "It was on the news." She grunted, folding her arms in front of her chest.

"Not right now; I'm in the middle of things."

"Mmmm. Come and eat with me then. I've made Natsuki something she'll like. Something fried."

"I really don't have time for this…" Natsuki brushed her fingers through her hair, separated a section, letting the tips glide methodically through her fingers. It amused the taller woman no end; this was Natsuki's _trying to weasel out of doing something I really don't want to do, but I'd feel guilty if I said no_ posture. Sometimes she let her precious one wiggle out from under her paw, but not this time. Natsuki needed to eat; Natsuki would eat.

The devil-woman drew the hand nervously fidgeting with hair into her own, pulling Natsuki towards the dining room, and she reluctantly followed. Her stomach rumbled, agreeing with her captor – she should eat something. _Traitor._ The aroma of tempura shrimp floated through the open doorway, and she paused, enjoying the smell. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips; Shizuru loathed fried foods, it didn't agree with her delicate digestive system at all. Fast food in general was too heavy, American dishes were worse. Each time she'd sampled them, mostly for Natsuki's benefit, she'd become nauseous and rushed to the bathroom.

On one notable occasion, when she'd persuaded Shizuru to accompany her to a pizza parlor, she'd ended up holding Shizuru's hair out of her face as she vomited in the alleyway behind the restaurant. That still evoked a twinge of guilt – it had been her idea, and the embarrassment of throwing up outside the privacy of a restroom… Insult to injury. And here she was, making battered seafood. Natsuki smiled fondly as she was propelled behind the Kyoto-born woman. _At times like this, she's almost bearable, at least until she opens her mouth._

She was still smiling, lost within ambrosial recollection, when a third person spoke.

"Aren't you cute, smiling at her behind her back like that." The voice rose into a breathless falsetto. "'Oh Fujino-san, my hero! Oh, oh, oh… Save me!' It's so precious it makes me want to puke."

"Nao…" Always well-mannered, Shizuru hadn't raised her voice; she didn't needed to. Natsuki's eyes narrowed. She knew a warning when she heard one.

Nao rolled her eyes, settling deeper into her chair with a smirk. "It's none of my business what the two of you do, but if you're going to keep groping each other, why don't you go back to the bedroom." Nao casually pointed to their still linked hands.

Natsuki pulled away quickly, reddening. "What the hell are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn't you be sneaking around looking for someone to practice your hentai bondage fetish on?"

Nao leaned forward, calculating the risks of playing with the tiger's toy in its den; some opportunities were just too good to pass up, and she was fairly sure Fujino would use the blackmail route to 'discipline' her, if push came to shove. She glanced between them, finally settling on Kuga. "Oh? How interesting. How would you know about fetishes? Has she turned you into her plaything? And all those times I had you tied up and helpless… no wonder you didn't struggle."

Natsuki face contorted with all the things she wasn't saying, the burning in her cheeks rivaling the intensity of her eyes. She took several steps closer to the unimpressed redhead, knocking a chair out of the way in her haste to get her hands on the now oh so dead thorn in her side, snarling, "Get me my gun."

"Yuuki-san should know better than to be so uncivilized in my home. I will forgive you, because I know what a poor upbringing you've had, growing up in an orphanage, without anyone around that cared to teach you better manners. We've already settled this once."

Shizuru smiled with exaggerated, congenial charm, tilting her head to one side as she folded her hands in front of her waist in that disconcertingly arousing fashion she had when she wanted something. A_rousing?_ Natsuki stopped abruptly, wide-eyed, as she struggled to erase the last second and a half from her memory.

"Why don't we have breakfast, and if you two insist on continuing this energetic sibling rivalry, I'll allow you to go outside afterwards… as long as you promise to kiss and make up, ne?" Shizuru reached over to right the fallen chair, ignoring the pair of openly incredulous stares burning a hole through her as she set the table.

Nao recovered first, laughing softly under her breath. "Still pretending to be the counselor."

"We are what we are, Nao-chan."

Nao glared at the older woman with obvious resentment, and Natsuki felt a moment's pity for her. Shizuru could be single-mindedly vicious when roused; a side she hadn't seen until the evening the Executive wrecking crew showed up. _And turned my best friend into a monster. _She concentrated on her food – she didn't want to think about that.

* * *

Takumi sat up. The dorm was quiet this evening, leaving him nothing to distract himself from his thoughts, and no matter how hard he tried to quiet them, to let himself drift off into the pleasant, unremembered land of dreams, they always returned to the endless sea of questions, the sense of loss which plagued him since his sister's death. He scooted his legs over the edge of the bed, glancing over at the black haired figure sleeping in the bed across from his. He studied her for a while in silence. Her back was turned to him, one arm thrust under the pillow she clutched with frightening strength, as if she were trying to throttle the life from it. A soft smile curved his lips.

"Akira-kun… are you asleep?" Mostly incoherent sounds wafted from the other side of the room, and he sighed.

Of course she was asleep – it was some hours after midnight, and she was heavily into the sports clubs here at Fuuka Gakuen, always striving to improve her physical prowess, to diligently maintain the keen edge of her fighting abilities. It seemed to him that she'd become even more driven after his operation, the one that saved his life. He wondered if it was because of him, his innate frailty. He'd gotten better, was able to do more things on his own now, but he would always be timid, malleable, weak. It was so much a part of him, so innate to his nature, he didn't think he was ever going to adopt a more masculine attitude.

He folded his legs underneath himself, fiddling with the hair just above his ear anxiously. After the trip to America, after the endless months of physical therapy, he'd been so cheerful, because life seemed to be stepping to a more forgiving drum. The insanity of the Festival was over, and the mail he and his sister passed between them was lighthearted. Takumi had been overwhelmed with relief, relaxing into the idea that things would be better now, that the future was no longer bent on making them as miserable as possible, had either forgotten about them entirely, or was at least withholding further punishing for whatever slights they'd performed in a previous life.

Akira hadn't wanted to stay in the land beyond the ocean – her family, her home, her clan were all back in Japan. _Her ninja clan_, he amended, laughing softly to himself. And so they'd returned to Fuuka, reenrolled under the stipend the Director had left for all of them. Takumi wasn't a bitter, cynical person, but Akira had insisted: this action was to expunge Kazahana-sama's guilt for putting the HiMEs through their own personal hells; a blank check to provide for them until such time as they wanted to enter the really real world.

It had all been so perfect. They'd moved into the dorms, been housed together. No one seemed the wiser to Akira-kun's gender, which Takumi found odd, but he was eager to accept. The faculty either knew and weren't mentioning, or the Director had quietly discouraged curiosity for her own reasons. For her part, Akira was content to uphold the ruse, more comfortable as a boy than she ever would be trying to become feminine. Those months were blissful; he had everything he'd always wanted, a comfortable place to stay, his most precious person in his arms at night, the promise of limitless possibility, stretching away into the horizon, his sister.

He squeezed his eyes shut, unsuccessfully trying to ward away the tears. _Mai._ She'd been so carefree, so relieved to have him safely home. He'd never seen her this happy, laughing with casual, good-natured ease. Of course, she had her own complexities to sort out – the escalating contest between Tate-kun and Reito-san, Shiho's constant sniping, Mikoto's shifts in attitude towards the three-way relationship as her loyalties spread dangerously thin. Mai came first, her Ani-ue a close second, the rest of the HiMEs, himself, and then… far far down the ladder, Yuuichi. Shiho never registered in her affections at all, he didn't think.

Almost as a mirror reflection, as Shiho's stability slipped through her hectically clutched fingers, so had Mikoto's. What started out as seemingly friendly competition between them steadily eroded into openly expressed loathing, and finally, physical assertion of their hostilities. Takumi watched helplessly as Mai's dearly won happiness frayed at the seams, ripping itself apart. "Onee-chan…" His shoulders slouched, and though his cheeks stang with the salt of his tears, he didn't bother to wipe them away – they'd only return.

Why? Why had it happened the way it did? What twist of fate had prompted his sister to open the doors to her own death? Had Mai raced into the dorm to stop Mikoto from finally killing the spiral-haired whiner? Had she gone there in hopes of privacy, an uninterrupted tryst with Tate-kun? Was it something more sinister; had Shiho arranged the whole thing? It was so unfair, that she, so full of life and laughter, so unhampered by the ravages of ill health, should die before him. Anger displaced the amorphous sadness long enough for him to get himself under control, at least for now. Too many ifs, and none shed light to banish the shadows carved into his heart. The pressure to know had grown unbearable, and he tried again, always returning to tentatively reach into the hole and grasp the winking truth buried below, even if he'd never be able to pull it out to examine it. It was an effective trap, the pitcher plant of speculation; he couldn't let go.

He couldn't stand the silence any longer. "Akira-kun, are you sleeping?"

Akira grunted and pulled the pillow closer to her face. "I was. Now I'm not."

Takumi made a soft sound of apology, thinking he was being very selfish, but he just… he needed. It was as simple as that. "What do you think Onee-chan would be doing right now, if…" _if she wasn't dead_.

Akira sighed. _Not again._ "I don't know… I think she'd be telling you to go back to sleep."

The response hadn't intrinsically carried anger, but it still felt like a rebuff. "Oh."

For a while, the quiet was disturbed by nothing but the sounds of their mingled breathing, and Akira relaxed, thinking he'd taken her advice and drifted off. _No, he's sitting over there trying to deal with his sadness by himself._ She pulled the blanket over her shoulders tightly, waiting for his common sense trip, as she knew it would. She wasn't disappointed. "No… really, what do you think she'd be doing?"

She hunched further into the pillow; she was very tired, and yet – "Takumi, Mai's dead. Let her rest in peace." _And please, please, let me go back to sleep._

"I know. Why do you think she went to the dorms that night?"

_Oh for fuck's sake._ Akira pulled the pillow over her head, bunching it tightly against her ears, wishing he'd shut up. She'd already answered these questions many many times, tried her best to create an answer he could accept, to ease him through his grief and loneliness, and still… still.

"I don't KNOW why she went into the dorm! Enough already." The words were muffled, indistinct as they filtered through the pillow.

"I just don't understand…" She threw the pillow at him with enough force to knock him back onto the bed. He knew he was pissing her off. He tried to stay quiet, managed for a few more minutes, cradling Akira's pillow against his chest like a stuffed animal, restlessly running his fingers over the soothing softness. Images of Mai thrashing around in agony as fire consumed her gnawed at his resolve; he trembled, knowing it was a losing battle.

He turned his head to watch his mate as she struggled to return to slumber. "Akira-kun… why did the fire kill her?" He gasped in surprise, staring up into the somewhat cross, somewhat sad chestnut eyes glaring down at him she wrapped her thighs around his hips snugly.

He'd never seen her move, just a flash of billowed blanket as it rose in the air, settling between their beds some seconds after she straddled him. Akira tilted her head, effortlessly locating the bundle of nerves behind the carotid artery and gently massaged her fingers against it. He squirmed, wracked with helpless laughter as the tingling sensations pulsed through the right side of his body. She was trying to distract him from his thoughts, and he smiled up at her lovingly. She was breathtaking.

"Gomen. I know you were trying to sleep."

She shrugged as if it weren't important, kneeling over him as she positioned her hands to either side of his head. "Go on and ask. I know you're going to anyway; get it over with so we can go back to bed. I have a test tomorrow."

Takumi frowned in thought, laying his hands across his stomach as he gathered his thoughts. "I don't understand why Onee-chan would have died in a fire. Fire was her element, wasn't it?" He glanced up at Akira to confirm this, and when she nodded, he continued. "So she wouldn't be vulnerable to it. And she was a HiME, too… I mean, you never get sick, not even allergies. And you're fast, and strong, and almost nothing seems to hurt you… you're superhuman." He grinned a little. "A secret, superhero ninja."

Akira rolled her eyes. Her ninjitsu upbringing unnaturally amused Takumi, a characteristic she found annoying and endearing in equal parts. "Yes? And?"

"So why would Tate-kun be the one to survive? I mean, not that I wished he hadn't, but it seems wrong, somehow. That three HiMEs would die, and he would live, when he's the only one who didn't have your abilities."

"He jumped out of a third story window," she reminded him.

"Yes, I know. But still, what killed her if it wasn't the fire?" He wasn't ready to let go of this particular anomaly, not just yet. He wanted to worry it a bit, figure out why it tasted unnatural.

"I don't know. Maybe she passed out from breathing all the smoke, and the fire killed her while she was unconscious." It was possible. Not probable, but possible. Akira frowned. She'd never really given it much thought, not even with the endless deluge of questions Takumi battered her with. She didn't have a reason _not_ to believe the police report. There was only one witness, and why would he lie?

Tate had nothing to gain by skewing the truth; he'd already lost the two most important people in his life, had been just as crushed by dejection as the rest of them, just as contemptuous of the stupidity involved, the senselessness of the event itself. But Takumi was right. Mai wouldn't have died from the fire, and chances were smoke wouldn't have affected her either – after all, she was the only one of them that had transcended the boundaries of terra firma. Not a lot of oxygen out there in space. Akira tried not to let these introspections show on her face.

"But you don't think that happened." _Dammit._

She worded her response carefully, not wanting to hint at her own piqued curiosity, not until she'd had some time to think about it. "I'm not sure what happened. The only person who _would _know, isn't around." She _didn't_ know what'd happened, but… she could find out. And she would, for him.

"Mmmm." Depression fell all around him like snow. She could see it in the downward angle of his lips, the way his thoughts collapsed inward, removing the animation from his eyes, making his actions listless. He wasn't looking at her any longer. "What happened to Tate? Do you know?"

Akira thought about it for a moment. He'd disappeared a few weeks after the incident without saying a word, while they were still cleaning away the littered remnants of the gutted, charred building, but she'd read something about him in the school paper. "I think he joined the army." Takumi remained passive, too wrapped up in his hurt to respond.

A tender smile softened her features as she enjoyed his profile; she enjoyed everything about him. Even his sadness made him beautiful. "Takumi," she whispered, wanting his attention. He turned his head towards her, his expression one of timid expectation, patiently waiting for whatever she would say, always attentive, always kind, always sensitive to her moods. She gathered her bangs behind her ears, leaning forward to press her lips over his, taking pleasure in the small, startled sound of his assent. She pulled the T-shirt she'd been wearing over her head, never once looking way from his eyes. If he couldn't get to sleep on his own, she knew one way to guarantee them both a full night's rest.

* * *

Shizuru gracefully sipped her tea, preferring not to eat; seeing Natsuki devour fare not fit for human consumption always made her queasy, though on some level she was pleased. Her dark haired companion seemed genuinely satisfied with what she'd prepared, and that reaction was well worth the faint lingering discomfort. She lowered her lashes, adopting the trademark unreadable, bemusedly calm affectation she used to distance herself from the world, masking her thoughts as she basked in having her enticing lone wolf within appreciating distance. She watched the sunlight sift through the blue-black curtain of hair, watched the precision of Natsuki's movements as she maligned yet another innocent bite of food with 'God's gift to condiments', watched her lips close over that bite, imagining what it would be like to sample the delicacy of their touch once more. _Perhaps Tempura isn't as appalling second hand._

"Shizu-ru, are you listening to me?"

"Hmmm? Did Natsuki say something?" She fervently hoped the direction these fantasies had taken wasn't visible on her face. She was too distracted to tell.

"My cell phone, it's beeping. Where'd you put my things?" That was as good an excuse as any – Natsuki'd just remembered the envelope her contact had slipped into her pocket, and she was curious about the box as well. _Maybe I'll just take a detour into the bathroom; recovering invalids need lots of pee breaks, right?_ She remembered hearing something like that, had a vague impression of Chie, phys ed, and a particularly aggressive feminine infection of some kind, but she hardly ever paid attention to other's conversations as they flowed around her, leaving her I.Q. mercifully unscathed.

Her eyes followed Shizuru as the honey-haired woman rose to retrieve her belongings. Shizuru hung the jacket on the back of Natsuki's chair, set the box with an envelope _Yamada's envelope_ atop it beside her plate without comment, and sat back down. Natsuki blanched, looking worriedly between Shizuru and the medium-sized manila pouch, as if it were an accusation – that she'd been caught pilfering ice cream in the middle of the night, after refusing dinner. Shizuru ignored her discomfort completely, lifting the teacup to aesthetically smug-less lips. _Damn that woman, damn her and her perpetually-parental-one-step-ahead-of-the-sneaky-teenager attitude._

Shizuru raised perfectly arched eyebrows. _Aren't you going to open it, now that your plans to absent yourself without me knowing have been foiled?_ Natsuki muttered something obscene under her breath, doing just that. She scanned the contents – a sheaf of legal sized pages with a confusing array of numbers ordered into neat little columns along one side. Her brows lowered in concentration, trying to puzzle out what possible connection this might have to her research. "Tax reports? What the hell does this have to do with anything?" Bureaucracy wasn't her department; she grunted, handed the documents to Shizuru without further comment.

The older girl studied the report quietly, mulling over which things could be mentioned, and which would better serve by remaining anonymous. She had some idea what was being sought; the questions answered during the Festival hadn't answered anything at all, and Natsuki had learned to ask better questions. Shizuru held some of the pieces, through her memory of Nagi's words felt hazy and indistinct. She knew what First District had been, what it had become. In the months her dearest one had fruitlessly bruised her foot kicking the gates of hell, Shizuru had her fingers firmly pressed to the pulse of the dying institution.

Ironic, really. Shizuru was both First District's destroyer and deliverance – if she hadn't crippled the organization to the point of collapse, it wouldn't have become vulnerable, making it such appetizing game. Politics was a hydra, you severed one head and another grew to fill the void. It hadn't expired as she hoped, but been digested, become a servant of the government, successfully removing itself from her reach. A different letterhead, a different location, unmodified ideology; no longer First, the name, like the company, had been reduced to simply District. But she couldn't tell Natsuki these things.

Shizuru understood politics, knew its strengths and weaknesses; she prized efficiency more, what her father had teasingly called – sledgehammer diplomacy. She was a creature of logic, aware that unlike herself, Natsuki had … misplaced the ability to summon her Element as she wished. _Again. _She suspected the cause for this failure lay within the frantically maintained limbo between them, but she was unwilling to voice this hypothesis – it would only make Natsuki's confusion more acute, more cutting, and that would be counterproductive. She wanted Natsuki to be happy, she wanted Natsuki to be whole, she wanted Natsuki to be safe. Above all else, she wanted to _be_ with Natsuki, to care for and protect her, share her life, though she doubted her help would be accepted. Shizuru didn't let herself dwell on what she really wanted – that, too, was counterproductive.

As if catching the echo of these thoughts, the younger woman spoke the one inquiry Shizuru hoped would never come up. "What do you know about First District?"

Shizuru returned her glance, remaining quiet for an uncomfortable span of time before answering. "They had something to do with Natsuki's injuries?"

Natsuki shifted in her seat uncomfortably, trying to tear her gaze away from those inconsolably depthless wine hued eyes. "I don't know. Probably." She hesitated. She didn't want to get Shizuru involved in this mess _like she isn't already_, but it was difficult to lie while caught in the crimson-velvet noose of Shizuru's concern. It was easier to submit. "I've been looking into the origin of the HiMEs, trying to figure out what connection First District had to the Carnival; why we're still different, even after their attempts to control the Obsidian Lord failed. I don't believe that was the end of it. It's too big of a coincidence for the attack at the garage to not be related. They were a well organized group, and I don't have that many enemies."

Nao uttered a soft, derisive sound, and Natsuki frowned; she'd forgotten they weren't alone. "Shut up."

The honey-haired woman set the papers on the table with great care. "They're military acquisition forms. Apparently, First District was bought out."


	7. Chapter 7 : And Back Again

**A/N: **Apologies all around for the lateness of this chapter – it was an adventure, and I didn't have as much free time to complete it.

**Felisse: **To my beloved editor, companion through trial, who allows me to abuse shamelessly with nary a word of complaint, who gives me strength when I am weak, and rightfully pops holes in my over-inflated ego when I'm insisting that 'no, that's a really good scene!', when in actuality I'm just embarrassing myself. Please – be mine.

**Silent Ee: **Wheels within wheels… round and round she goes, and where she stops, only the candyman knows. Allusions? I know not whereof you speak. ;) Should my wicked wit paint me in a corner, I will look to the readership for assistance. Either that or a giant pogo stick. Please continue your speculations! If I lack creative flow, I will most like buoy myself with the machinations of those who reply. I enjoy my version of Shizuru as well – she has become, like many of the others, her own creature in my mind.

**Kieli:** I continue to be humbled by your praise, and do but wish to continue to amuse. Thank you. I, too, am a shameless feedback harlot. Please, continue your sponsorship. The trick is in the treat.

**Suikun: **That has to be one of the most thoughtful reviews I've had the pleasure of reading about my own works. Thank you so much for taking the time to write it! I'm fulfilled. I never once supposed that losing the full range of their HiME powers would rob them of that quality (whatever it may be) that made them the saviors of the universe (or at least Japan) in the first place. I'm flattered this is a unique point of view… Natsuki is a complex character that expressed herself mostly in words and facial expression.

As such things tend to come across better in visual format than written (or rather, that I'm lacking in the ability to portray as accurately as it was animated), I've done my best to expand her character beyond what we got to see. The side characters are no less important in my mind – even though I may not offer them as much screen time, I want them to be memorable and complete. I will to my best to let the plots intermingle with one another until they merge – action is not my strong point, angst is, but I believe I'm maintaining a happy middle ground. Be of good cheer: the plots, emotional and action, will indeed merge. With a resounding THUD.

**Mad Like That: **I hope to become as beloved as Pringles – once you pop, you can't stop. I do put a great deal of thought (and research) into the situations we invent. I'm glad it's paying off.

**Shigan: **I adore Shizuru. What's not to love about a kind, compassionate, generous, protective, demure, charming cold-blooded killer? Shizuru is a creature of action, even more so than Natsuki, though this may seem reversed at the moment. At the moment she is Sisyphus, pushing her stone to the edge of the cliff. It may topple, it may fall. And when it lands it will wreak glorious, soul-wrenching carnage. Be wary – when the demon stirs, the world trembles in its wake.

**Johnny Once More: **I intend to incorporate as many aspects of the series as I can possibly manage, without painting myself into that corner Silent Ee warned me away from. The warzone is coming, callooh callay. Hosanna on high. Please, continue to enjoy.

**Naked Fish: **I rarely try to push events which couldn't possibly happen (unless it falls into storyteller plot device arena), because I'm a stickler for reality. Yuuichi has always, and will always be a wuss – I intend to make him suffer. And suffer. And suffer. Did I mention I'm going to make him suffer? As for why Mikoto and Shiho were at odds, and the events surrounding the fire, I hope the details as I reveal them suffice. I am going to introduce Reito… quite soon, actually.

**Seravy: **Oooh, I'm all tingly with warm fuzzy goodness. I'm so glad I've somehow managed to maintain the proper characterization for my fateful pair. I express most of the emotional contend through metaphor; I'm glad I've thus it has been agreeable. I'm enjoying Takumi and Akira more than I thought I would. They were really great characters, and are as completely vital to my story (however understated) as they were in the anime.

**Kiltmandu: **Glutton I am for praise, so swooning moved, so eager to please. Come sit beside me, and I'll tell you a tale. Lean back and revel. Once upon a time…

**XSojix, Jordan.D:** So glad you're still enjoying! I hope to continue to bewitch you into thinking it's a good story. ;)

This chapter has some plot advancement, on two fronts even (three if you count the slow, methodical breaking down of Natsuki's preconceptions about Shizuru), and some emotional content as well. After re-reading it (for the 20th time) I'd have to say it's at least acceptable, as it carries the components I find amusing to read, and ended on the tone I was struggling to reach. Will gladly offer Scooby Snacks to anyone who feels like speculating on what the heck is going on with Akira. Please accept my offering, and do with it as you will.

* * *

**Chapter 7   
**

Natsuki brushed her hair over one shoulder as she reclined against the foot of the couch, relaxing into the reasonable comfort this position provided, and let her head flop back against the seat. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, wedged between the couch and the coffee table, her fingers idle on the keyboard in front of her as she tried to cover her annoyance. They'd retired into the living room, each staking separate territories for their own – Shizuru claiming one end of the couch, the raven-haired girl the other, and Nao, preferring to stand, lounged on the nearby wall, wrapped in a pervasive aura of boredom.

Her attempts hadn't been completely useless. She did manage to locate several dummy corporations, tenuously linked to First District by questionable franchise companies. Following the flow of money, as Yamada called it. But, other than a few teasing blurbs, usually located underneath unrecognizable newspaper photos of places she'd never seen, her search ended right where it began. Nowhere. Natsuki's eyes stung, and she was almost _desperate_ thirsty enough to pester Shizuru for tea. She stared at the ceiling, sifting through possible search strings as she studiously ignored the blank field, and its innocuously blinking cursor. It wasn't just sitting there, politely waiting for her to continue, oh no. It was taunting her.

Kuga scowled, growling sullen threats as she sat up straighter, widened the distance between herself and the object of her ire, thrusting the coffee table back a few inches with her toes. The anger was still there, riding the tide of frustration the longer she stared at The Blinking Cursor of DOOM; she crossed her arms tightly to keep hands from wrapping themselves around the laptop, bludgeoning it against the nearest hard object. "I can't find _anything_ about First District."

"Mmmm." Natsuki's head fell to one side, following the sound to its source, the first she'd heard from that direction in almost an hour. The Kyoto-born woman held a book in one hand, her legs pulled up beside her as she reclined against the arm of the couch in a flawless pose of absorption, the slightly lowered eyebrows indicating interest in the subject matter. A picture perfect moment waiting to happen._ Good thing Fujino's fan club isn't here; I'd get trampled under the stampede. _The smirk forming on Natsuki's lips died a quick, uneasy death as she studied the book itself; the page number hadn't changed.

The honey-haired woman was being too passive, too withdrawn. She'd lapsed into a sort of idiosyncratic quietude after her earlier revelation; it was obvious Shizuru was politely refraining from comment _what's she got to be sullen about; I'm the one doing all the work, _perhaps concerning the naive belief First District would have publicly accessible records. _Or maybe she's pissed you're using her again. _Nails bit into her palm as her attention snapped back to the screen. It made Natsuki nervous when Shizuru got like this.

"Try starting with the D's and work your way to F." _Just doing my part to help. _Nao smiled sweetly, one eyebrow raised in mock middle-finger salute as Natsuki glared at her.

Natsuki closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead. She was getting a headache. She hated asking for assistance, hated being needy, not being able to rely on her own abilities. _Fuck it._ Her head swiveled to ask Shizuru to take a turn on the computer, already moving before her mind caught up with spatial reconciliation – she found her cheek pressed into a soothing, languorous weight as the older woman knelt slightly above her to study the screen. Too embarrassed to move, the younger girl's eyes rolled upward, absurdly hoping this advance hadn't been noticed, convinced the devil-woman had chosen this exact moment to sneak beside her on purpose. _Don't be stupid – she couldn't possibly have known I was going to ask for help._ Still, it was suspicious; the blasé expression her friend wore was chastity incarnate.

_What is it with me being molested by breasts?_

Natsuki's breath quickened as the older woman's hair fell between them, obscuring her vision, hiding her face from Shizuru's view. She regressed, sinking into the warm, subliminally enamoring aroma: bergamot and jasmine, cardamom and nutmeg – the lingered remnants of less complex emotion, herself, cradled in an angel's arms. _So nice. _Her eyes closed, whispering murmured enjoyment into the softness surrounding her face. _Ok, why haven't I moved yet?_ Panicking, she resisted the urge to brush up against Shizuru, uttering a small, uncomfortable sound as she cringed in the opposite direction. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

Shizuru remained fixed in place, scanning the various links she'd pulled up without expressing any notice of these events, her fingers rapidly tapping the keys. Natsuki breathed a sigh of relief _much easier to claim plausible deniability when the closet monster agrees it can't see me when I pull the blanket over my head,_ though her respite was short lived. The older woman wasn't the only one she had to worry about, was it?

She felt like the lead in her own B movie as she turned in slow motion, expecting Nao to be collapsed on the floor with laughter. _You look so stupid!_ _I can't believe you're doing this!_ But she wasn't. The redhead filed her nails with casual indifference, as if being in the room with them were completely beneath her, and she couldn't be bothered to take notice. _Maybe she didn't see it._ It was too much to hope for. Nao lifted her fingers closer to her mouth, blowing on them with lingering, almost seductive care as their eyes met. The slow, cat-like smile which spread across her face told Natsuki everything she never wanted to know.

* * *

"Takumi! Takumi…"

His head jerked up when he heard his name, worriedly scanning the crowd for his roommate; she sounded strained. Akira raised her hand, motioning him to join her across the frenetic lunchtime crowd, alleviating his initial tension. He returned her wave and smiled brightly, but she'd already turned away again, staring out the window.

_Is it something about Mai?_ This thought buried itself under the strangeness of Akira inviting him to eat lunch with her. That was very unlike her. _Him. Them?_ He smiled at his own continuing internal debate about which he should refer to her as, in his mind. It was probably nothing – maybe his black-haired ninj-ette just wanted company. He backed away from a pair of students wrestling heatedly in his path, detoured around them, apologized to the person he bumped into in doing so, and retreated into his thoughts, putting himself on autopilot. "Gomen… gomen… gomen…"

Trying to navigate this feeding-frenzy madhouse wasn't as enjoyable as his pointless internal debate, even if it only applied to when he and Akira weren't alone – mostly school hours, though it did include extracurricular activities _at least hers… his? _Occasionally, Takumi simply got so wrapped up in meandering introspections that Akira was forced to track him down, or he'd be out wandering aimlessly until the midnight sprinkler system kicked in, soaking him before he realized what was going on. _That only happened a few times. Six is a few, isn't it?_

They had an agreed-upon meeting spot, and when the secret ninja wasn't locking shinai with teammates, rigorously exercising in the weight room, researching in the library, or volunteering to teach Aikido to elementary kids in their martial arts classes, that's where they could find one another. A secluded section of campus where the Director's gardens turned natural, flora thinning from tidy rows into wildflowers, under a tree, where Akira would sit sketching a small rivulet lined with water-stained stones as she waited for him.

Calling the quicksilver ribbon a stream was too grand. It wasn't quite deep enough, or wide enough to fit that description in Takumi's mind. He had, in fact, often found himself wondering if it wasn't the result, by caprice or negligence, of some errant grounds keeper's garden hose, turned to fullest capacity and forgotten. But then again, he reasoned no one would leave a hose on full tilt for over a year, would they? Surely not.

He was torn from his current ruminations by the uncomfortable pressure of an arm thrown over his shoulders, lowering his field of vision as it tightened, vise-like, around his throat. His cheek pressed into a comfortable, if rough, surface that yielded accommodatingly as he turned his head to look up at Akira's chin.

She was well aware of Takumi's penchant for losing track of the surroundings existing _outside_ his head, and grown too impatient to wait for his lackadaisical progress; she'd maneuvered his head into a classic headlock, and was now rapidly pulling him towards the least populated section of the room. Takumi tried hard not to make any embarrassing sounds as he balanced his tray clumsily to keep the precariously perched foodstuffs from sliding off. They had mint jello today, and that was his favorite.

To say that he was annoyed by this obviously masculine, jock-like behavior, in lieu of some other method of easing transport from one side of the cafeteria to the other, would've been a vast overstatement, however, for a variety of reasons which filtered through his mind as he was promptly deposited in a chair across from Akira, and once again released to his own motor functions. He rubbed a bit as his throat in spite of these things; she had a strong grip, and the starched collar of his uniform was uncomfortably tight.

"Ah, Akira-kun! What's the matter?" He tugged at the front of his uniform. He was always nervous around his mate when surrounded by an audience, afraid he'd do something dreadful, negate the extensive time and effort both had invested in obscuring the truth of her bent gender.

She smacked his hands away from his neck, pushing them firmly into the table before sitting back – he was just fiddling with it out of agitation now, and in her current mood it was distracting.

"Takumi, do you remember what we were talking about last night?" Her voice was pitched lower than usual, as if she were concerned they'd be overheard, even amidst the raucous male bonding, the squeals of girls as they appreciated this act, the tide-like hum of countless conversations, what appeared to be the entire soccer team loudly discussing plans to steal the practice field away from the Kendo Club for their own use, and one _incredibly_ annoying cicada. Takumi leaned forward – he hadn't heard a word she said.

Akira rolled her eyes and repeated the question a bit louder, closer to his ear as he inclined it towards her.

"You mean before…" Her eyes narrowed, and he looked down, closed his mouth over what he'd been about to say, not wanting to annoy or embarrass her further. He could see the faint, pinkish tinge rising to her cheeks, mirroring the warmth of his own.

"Yes, before," she snapped. He smiled apologetically, lifting his shoulders in a slight shrug as he nodded. He remembered that particular conversation, and the activities which followed, vividly – the actual reason behind the over sensitivity of his neck was because his uniform politely camouflaged a ring of bite marks she'd lovingly lavished upon him as their affections _her affections_ carried them off to sleep. And even through the nagging certainty that whatever she was about to tell him would suck him back into sorrowful, futile debate, he couldn't help swooning under the summoned kinesthetic recollection.

She cleared her throat to get his attention and he began eating, trying to focus himself on the here and now. "I've been thinking about doing some investigation, to get a better idea what happened." He glanced up in hopeful surprise; he hadn't expected her to _want_ to pursue the matter, considering his incessant, dogged refusal to just accept the situation, finish grieving and get on with life. He was going to cry, he just knew it.

Akira handed him a napkin, waited for him to wipe away the tears with a bland, unsurprised expression on her face. _No… she's… angry?_ She scooted her chair closer, keeping her voice even with obvious effort. "I want to follow up on Tate, see where he's posted, but don't think I can without outside assistance. The army guy I talked to wasn't being cooperative." Her voice trailed off, as if she was in the middle of a thought and forgotten what she'd said a minute ago, staring fixedly in his direction. _At me? No, the fork._ He finished pulling the food into his mouth and offered it to her, trying to be helpful, but as soon it moved away from his mouth, her expression lapsed into blankness.

"Akira…kun?" Takumi continued holding his fork out for her, his eyebrows raised in silent inquiry, and she frowned, shaking her head as her mouth narrowed into a single, nearly bloodless line.

"Put that down! What the hell's wrong with you? You look like you're trying to propose or something! Idiot." He flinched from the hostility in her voice, watching her fingers drum angrily on the table. She resumed staring out the window, her entire attitude screaming leave me alone. _And yet… and yet. _The line between her eyebrows was winkled in panic, as if he'd tried to hold her hand in public, or offered an overtly poignant compliment. He was very confused. She was acting, not to put too fine a point on it, as if something were drastically "fucking with her chi."

He set the silverware down hesitantly, wondering what he might have done to upset her this much – under normal circumstances, she kept her emotions under strangle-hold control, supplanting impassioned response with the ingrained discipline born from a lifetime of traditional, unrelenting restraint. He wanted to reach over and touch her hand, to coax her to share whatever was disturbing her, but he didn't quite dare. "Akira-kun, if you don't want to look into it, it's ok. I don't want to trouble you." _If it's going to bother you this much._

"Don't be stupid, Takumi." He was sure she was purposely not looking at him. He chewed on the inside of his lip thoughtfully, studying her: she was sitting in an uncomfortably stiff position, continuing to rhythmically drive her agitation into the table with one hand, while her other hand vacillated between briskly brushing itself along her leg and clutching with white-knuckled strength.

"What's wrong?" The concern in his voice was palpable, alluring, undeniably sexy. She closed her eyes and lowered her forehead to the table, her arms crossing over the back of her head, wishing the acutely, painfully heightened awareness of everything happening around her would disappear – she deeply resented this headlong tailspin into emotional morass, vexed to the point of snapping at Takumi, and she didn't want to take it out on him. It wasn't his fault.

"Shit." She took a deep breath and sighed, giving up on her attempts to curb the bizarre physiological twist of genetics. It never worked anyway, and feeling sorry for herself wasn't in her nature. She sat back in her chair.

"I was just…" Takumi watched her with alarm as she paused in the middle of her sentence again before picking up where she left off. "Thinking about where to go from here." She studied him with that same, rather exciting predatory aura she'd had a few moments ago, when she was staring at his fork, and he reddened considerably. _Has it been a month already?_ He tried to remember the last occurrence, came up with a blank, but that was the only logical conclusion for her behavior. He meekly lowered his gaze, watching her hand as it surreptitiously stretched toward his and jerked his hand back instinctively, as if he'd been burned. The hand halted its forward motion, retreated, scraping across the table, as if Akira were struggling with it. His heart was beating very fast. He sat absolutely, perfectly still.

"We can get our hands on the police report without too much difficulty." He dared a glance to gauge her expression, and almost wished he hadn't. It was one chromosome shy of feral, as if she were contemplating what economy of motion it would take to wrestle him into submission, what amount of pressure she'd need to apply to accomplish the task without permanent damage. He smiled at her, paling, unconsciously shying away. "I'm not sure how useful it would be, though. It might be better to snatch the coroner's report, see if there's anything weird going on there."

"Oh." It was short, and to the point. So very unlike him. _I'm scaring him again._ The frown reappeared.

"What," she asked defensively, cursing herself.

He opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, closed his mouth, rephrased what he'd been about to say, smiling sheepishly. "Nothing, I was just wondering if there was anything I could do… to…" _ease your suffering._ Takumi made some vague gesture with his hand, not wanting to draw attention to either of them, or make her feel put upon. That was never ever a good thing to do. "Help," he finished lamely.

Akira's lips pressed together tightly. "I'm fine."

"But you know, it would be ok… and I wouldn't mind or anything." He smiled at her in that adorable, naively boyish fashion he had, and her heart melted. "I enjoy spending time with you." The blush made her breath catch, and she found herself closing her eyes as she leaned towards him, wanting to be intimate with him so acutely it felt like she was suffocating. The world faded away, leaving them both in a separate space, a pocket reality of their own design.

Something clicked, and they both turned, looking up at the tall, rather lanky, dark haired interruption standing beside them, her cell phone held up in her hands as she immortalized the moment for posterity. "Such beautiful brotherly love. I'd always suspected there was something more than friendship going on here." Chie sat down beside them, looking quite pleased with herself – her hunch had proven true after all.

"Ah..." Takumi couldn't think of anything to say. He wasn't afraid of others thinking he was gay _gay-er_, but there was a high likelihood the faculty would adjust their housing accommodations if their relationship were discovered, a change he didn't really want. Akira managed to hide her mortification within a heartbeat's time, and glared at the older girl with frightening heat.

"Don't worry Okuzaki-kun, your secret is safe with me." Chie leaned over the table, lowering her voice to a conspirator's whisper. "I'm just happy for the two of you. I was very worried for Takumi after his sister's death." Akira looked as though she'd swallowed a lemon. Whole. She caught Takumi's eye with practiced ease, continuing their conversation silently.

_Can you afford to miss your last class?_

_Yes._

Chie was still watching the two of them, her head turning from one to the other when the secret ninja stood, pushing his chair back loudly. "I have to go practice." And with that, he strode resolutely away.

Chie's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"

"Gomen, Chie-san." Takumi laughed nervously, rising as he picked up his neglected lunch. He offered her an apologetic smile. "I have some homework to finish." He bowed slightly and made a hasty retreat. Chie tapped her phone against her lips as she watched the bashful, apprehensive boy depart. She smirked, noticing that he left in the opposite direction Akira-kun had taken, completely amused. "I see. Looks like it's really love, Mai-san," she whispered to herself. _I'm glad. I'll be cheering for you both._

Chie's smile widened as she resumed her previous plans to join Aoi for lunch.

* * *

"Did you bring everything?"

Nao didn't bother replying, merely pointed to the three overflowing garbage bags slumped by the front door without raising her eyes. This indentured servitude was getting old; she'd have to slip Shizuru's leash soon. Perhaps she'd even manage to reverse their roles and give the honey-haired woman a good… strong… yank. She laughed quietly to herself, returning her attention to the 'though lovers be lost' pair; they were better than the late night doramas she'd become addicted to when insomnia took it's toll.

"It's settled then. Natsuki will stay here until it's safe for her to leave." Shizuru paused, her head tilted to one side as she smiled at the redhead ignoring her. "Yuuki-san is welcome to stay as well, if she wishes."

Nao answered that charming one-sided smile with one of her own. _Fuck you very much. I'd rather bleed to death in an alley someplace. _Sighing, the honey-haired woman redirected her attention towards the other person currently ignoring her, waiting patiently for her precious one to begin arguing against this course of action.

Natsuki lifted her head from the article Shizuru had pointed out to her, something about an abandoned oil refinery on the coast accepting government loans to continue operations in the flagging economy. _Déjà vu._ The article itself hadn't been very engaging, but the picture it prominently featured brought back unwanted memories. The rusted catwalks and endless maze of piping lent the refinery a melancholy, haunted atmosphere, eerily similar to the place she'd been bound, unconscious, awaiting the vampire Orphan's judgment.

She'd only caught the last few words of the conversation, and was very surprised Shizuru would extend her hospitality to the callous guttersnipe. Her glance bounced between the two, wondering what sort of relationship they had, her expression shifting from astonishment to mild hostility as it occurred to her Shizuru's hold on Nao might be more intimate – they might be lovers. It would fit the circumstances, and answer why the hell she was still here. _Whatever. Shizuru can do whatever the fuck she wants._

"Natsuki isn't going to protest? Ara, ara, she must love me more than I realized. But why is she scowling?"

The dark haired girl pushed the laptop away angrily, her surly countenance deepening as she struggled to dismiss the assumption she'd been replaced. "Protest what?" _You sleeping with a sixteen year old girl? _The devil-woman was watching her intently, and she flushed, looking away.

Shizuru's smile lightened, genuine emotion replacing gracious facade as she watched the dark haired girl pout, questioning what cause could effect such an adorable expression. She spoke softly, her voice filled with affection. "Natsuki shouldn't be on her own. I asked if she would stay here with me." Comforting her beloved was second nature; whatever irritation the younger woman felt, she would remove.

Natsuki blinked in confusion. "But I thought… nevermind. I can't stay here. I've got a lot of things to do, and we'd just be in each other's way. With First District active again it's safer if I leave." She rose and stretched, closed the laptop, checked to make sure both guns were firmly fitted into the small of her back.

Shizuru continued speaking in bright, excited tones. Railroading Natsuki into something she didn't want to do took patience. "It will be fun. Just like the sleepovers Natsuki and I had in school. And Yuuki-san has already gathered Natsuki's things from her apartment."

Natsuki bristled, turning to confront the redhead. "You did what?"

The sly, cagey sneer resumed its position as Nao lifted her chin in silent challenge. "You heard your keeper. I fetched all the pet's belongings." She paused, curious as to whether their mutual tormentor had mentioned the events leading up to Fujino's decision to confine Natsuki in this gilded cage. She hoped not. She wanted to be the bearer of bad news. "Everything that was left."

"What? Left? Left where?"

Ahhh, so blissful. "In your apartment." Nao looked around the room, taking in the various works of art, the antique china, the hand woven rugs. "Didn't she tell you? Someone torched the building while you were snuggling with your… friend." Sweet sweet revenge – the look on Natsuki's face was worth chafing under the bitch's collar. For now.

Shizuru shot Nao a sharp warning look before confirming her beloved's unspoken request. "I'm sorry, Natsuki…"

The younger girl slowly sank to her knees, laughing humorlessly. She glanced at the garbage bags _my life… my whole life fits in three bags_. _First my bike, and now this… life hates me._

As delicious as this was, it wasn't quite enough. Nao launched herself away from the wall and strolled over to one of the bags, squatting as she studied the contents. "You know, Kuga… you had a lot of lingerie." She sighed, as if it were a great pity these things should happen. "At least a few things survived. That's good, don't you think?"

Natsuki slowly banged her head on the coffee table. _My collection. Again._ "Bastards," she snarled, getting to her feet stiffly. "I'm going. I want to see for myself." Natsuki scrubbed her face with her hands, turned on her heel quickly and walked towards the door.

"Natsuki…" Shizuru's anxiety got the better of her, sharpening her voice, making that one word _desperate_ both a warning, and a helpless farewell. _Don't play too rough._

Natsuki turned her head in acknowledgement as she passed, and the older woman laced fingers through her own, pressing the keys to the car into her palm. She offered the honey haired woman a curt, furious smile and stormed out the door.

Shizuru stepped to the window, pulling aside the curtain as her car sped away, quietly surveying the driveway, the nearly deserted street sunning itself in the lazy afternoon heat.

"I suppose you expect me to babysit until she comes crawling back." Nao's tone was resentful, contemptuous.

Shizuru ignored her temper tantrum, continuing to stare out the window as she let the curtain fall back into place. "The men outside are an eyesore. Go entertain yourself. Find out which side of the equation they belong on."

Nao raised an eyebrow in appreciative surprise. She hadn't mentioned the small groupings of suited men keeping the private dorms under surveillance, opting to save the information for further leverage. She chuckled. This woman was always surprising her. Nao crossed her arms loosely across her chest as she adopted the attitude of exhausted distain. "I don't feel like doing your dirty work today."

Shizuru smiled to herself, her head dropping as she closed her eyes. "Then tell me no."

Nao struggled to control her temper, managed to halt her steps before she struck, her face twisted into a mask of rage. "We don't need your charity! We don't need your fucking money! Mama and I will be fine on our own. We've never needed anyone! Anyone, Fujino! Especially not you." Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes, realizing her nemesis had won again.

Shizuru spoke very softly. "Is that why. So." She inhaled deeply, accepting. She didn't bother to correct the redhead, to explain she took care of them as a measure of repayment, not because she needed an assistant. She didn't mention Nao's mother had respectfully pleaded with her to watch over her only daughter, direct her anger, teach her control, protect her from herself. Shizuru had politely agreed to this responsibility, as she agreed to most things asked of her.

She lifted her face and stared unflinchingly into those fragile, hostile eyes. "You don't need me. We need each other. I'm not asking you to kill them; if I want something removed, my face will be the last thing they see." Serenity returned as swiftly as it had departed; she was used to being the monster. "Nao-chan seems bored. I'm giving you something to do."

Nao laughed bitterly. "I wonder what your precious Natsuki-chan would think if she knew what you really are." The figure by the window declined to answer, and Nao smirked in cynical amusement. They had much in common, this tea flavored woman and she. Illusion was deceptive, and neither of them were what they appeared to be.


	8. Chapter 8 : Petty Vindications

**A/N:** Keep the input coming – like Johnny five, need input! Masses and masses of homo-sapien reflective introspection to wallow in as I write. The painter is nothing without his pallet, and water to clear his brushes.

**Felisse:** Once again, as always, I am in your debt. Who but you could stand my constant demands – check for flow and content, check for repetition of phrase, hold my hand, wipe my nose, scratch the itch; I can't reach while I'm typing. I am your (not so) humble servant.

**Nocturne: **I like undiscovered country, new places to delve, ravish, and be conquered by. I'm glad the relationship between Nao and Shizuru piques your interest. I found myself lost in speculation as well. The action is harder to accomplish, but I'm not giving up, not just yet. I don't have as much faith in my abilities as thou, but I'm stubborn, and completely willing to make an ass of myself in the attempt. In it for the long haul, as they say, come what may.

As for pulling a Sunrise, I do believe I might have ripped off a greater portion than I can possibly digest. Thus inspired, please allow me to take the time to retort: 'And they all lived happily ever after!' Just kidding. ;)

**Genesys1901:** Hmm, possibly. However, there is a greater chance of infection if the hair is left unwashed, and the only other way I could think to counter this (in Shizuru's mind) was to shave Natsuki's head. Something she would never ever do.

**Suikun: **Once again, I am completely awestruck in the depth of your reply. Please continue! I cannot offer more meat for conjecture on the subject of Nao, other than basking in the praise you've showered upon me. She is an important character. As for the blackmail… I treaded very carefully on this point, and feel it may become more apparent in later chapters what the motivation was behind her seeming self-sacrifice. It certainly wasn't as cut and dried as it was laid out to be – Shizuru accepts responsibility for a far more self-oriented reasons.

A bushel of Scooby Snacks! A cartload, a mountain. Your puzzle-piecing is worth that reward, as you caught several subtleties in word choice I hadn't expected to engender more than a passing glance. Kudos! Akira is the dominant in their relationship, that is true. This very well may lead to strife further down the road, when more far reaching decisions have to be made. I look forward to seeing how the various characters' turning points affect the plot myself.

**Silent Ee:** I'll most likely choose the pogo stick, because I am unfailingly lazy. Except, of course, I cannot, because the characters themselves are holding me hostage with a loaded banana, and I don't dare cross them. I might wind up in a fudge sundae somewhere, and that would definitely put a kink in my plans. Akira in heat. I love it. To quote Puss from Shrek 2, "Already our minds are becoming one." The dance has already changed tempo; I only hope I have the stamina to survive.

**UltraMarine:** Of all the comments I've read thus far, and I scour each one with greedy fingers, this had me in stitches. I'm not sure I _want_ to imagine a world in which Nao and Shizuru hooked up. Nothing would survive.

**CarrotLunch: **It could be either, period or pregnancy, but somehow… I think it goes deeper than that. I'm glad the update made your week! Hope this one makes us happy too.

**Xsojix: **Thank you again for answering my email – I hope this chapter is more to your liking. ;)

**Johnny: **We are each other's favorite addictions, and I, being an addictive personality, blithely sink into the cacophonous harmony we share. Can you hear their heartbeats race? I can. The children of the night – what sweet music they make.

**Interstate405: **Never too much to ask. Had I offspring (which would be calamity incarnate), I would happy share their demonic presence with you. You could even have them on weekends. No no, I need encouragement, trust me.

**Kiltmandu: **Much praise to be shared, for you helped me through this chapter, took position as my empathic sounding board. Cheers to us, muse – may we both deserve it.

**D, amnesia nymph, and stickytofu: **Keep up the encouragement! I maintain – will work for praise.

This chapter changes the records we listen to, and should, hopefully, instill a sense of loss. The pattering of rain before the curtain descends, cutting one off from hope. I would also like to answer a few questions that had, before, slipped my attention. This fiction takes place **one year and three months** from the last episode. I hadn't made it clear enough in the story, so I clarify here. Also, I have no idea how long this work will be. It may end in two more chapters, or ten, or fifty. I've honestly no idea. I hope that isn't too daunting, as I realize that if _I_ don't know, no one would. But, in a way, that's part of the charm, ne? Please, enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 8   
**

What had she done to deserve this? Cheated on her tests? Run over a civil servant? _Ok, I cheated on tests; I didn't know the universe was keeping score._ She shifted into second gear, cutting off the person who was trying to make an illegal left turn in front of her, smiling with malicious humor. _Misery loves company, get over it. _She hated cars. No, that wasn't quite strong enough. She despised them. If there had been any other way to get from point A to point B, she would have opted for that instead. Roller-skates, tricycle, bareback ostrich riding. Anything was better than the claustrophobic confinement she was enduring at the moment.

She felt like ripping the steering wheel off and throwing it through the windshield. Of course, that wouldn't make getting to her apartment, or what might be left of it, any faster. She snarled and downshifted, not bothering to stop for her turn, savagely wrenching the wheel to one side and as the car shuddered, the tires skipping over the wet tarmac. She flipped on the wipers, slipping past the more cautious drivers, ignoring the warning honks. She stared into the oncoming headlights as they splashed light over the hood, illuminating herself in garish high definition, waited until her pupils contracted to pinpoints absorbing that light before she revved the engine to a whine, cutting back into the proper flow of traffic

_Fucking District!_ She clamped her fingers on the steering wheel. _First my bike…_ Her fingertips remembered the thrill of brushing along the stunning expanse, soft skin lowering under her palm as the body trembled, not daring to move. _No, not thinking about that._ The nearly inaudible intake of air, the breathless quality of voice as Shizuru whispered it was only a nightmare. _My bike was blown to shit, and my apartment… _The gentle smile, safely tucked away from view, the one she saved for her Natsuki. _Went up in smoke, like the rest of my life. Except… except… _The comfortable security of lying in her arms, being cared for, knowing she was adored. Natsuki uttered a plaintive sound of displeasure, her fingers flexed, tightening and relaxing, tightening until the faux leather whined for release.

Her mind, as stubborn as the rest of her, released this thread of thought, choosing another to unravel. And what about her reaction earlier? Where the logic problem solving part of her insisted Shizuru and Nao were being intimate with one another. _No no no, that was just a misinterpretation; we already set that straight._ Straight, gay, obsess much? She grunted angrily. You set that straight? Why did it bother you then, that moment of panic when you ceased to exist, forgotten flower, pressed between the pages of Shizuru's memories?

"I just can't deal with this right now. Not now." She'd thought her voice would come out angry, furious at herself for not being able to focus, but all she heard was fear. She took a deep breath, burying her thoughts under the task at hand. Shizuru would be there when she returned. _If I return._ She winced. That was cold, cold as the hopeless yearning in her dreams, cold as the breath on her neck as she consigned them both to death. _Not like it's the first time I've run away, but I can't be what she wants. I never could._

"Fuck. FUCK!" That may be true, but she never intended it to be a punishment – she was just confused; she needed space, and time enough to figure out what she was. She needed to get her life straightened out before she made a decision.

And there _were_ more important things going on. She had no idea why District was trying to kill her, what purpose her death would serve, unless they wanted to keep her from discovering her history, were continuing to cover their tracks. What could possibly be so important to hide? She had no idea, nor was she quite selfish enough to suppose the attacks were localized only to her. If they were really resurrecting themselves, everyone was in danger. She needed to find the truth, to reconcile the past. _I have things to take care of – I have no time for relationships. _She couldn't possibly love someone – there wasn't enough time.

* * *

"Miyu… what is your primary goal?" The voice was disembodied, amorphous. It surrounded her in her coffin, vibrated through her skin, lapping insistently through the fluid she was suspended in. She tried to pull up the data relating to how she'd gotten here, overwhelmed by an insistent, pervasive fear. _"How long have we been running, Miyu?"_ This memory was only partially complete, the number appearing as a random bit of information. Four hundred fifty five days, thirteen hours, sixteen seconds. Her anxiety increased. The series of events leading to her current state of operation seemed important, and yet, it was leaking away. She could hear the sound of fingers on a keyboard, somewhere outside her prison. _"Take me home."_

But it wasn't safe. She recalled a face, disassociated from meaning; a soft, golden light surrounding a cherubic visage, herself smiling at this person as it lifted its auroral blue eyes, accepting the fingers she caressed through the pale blond locks. Her voice returned to her as the technician activated her vocal synthesizer. "Ojousama." She no longer comprehended the meaning behind these words, though they remained, whispering to her as the purging process continued. They were stealing away her past, blurring her memories with lines of text, taking away her soul with every keystroke. She closed her eyes.

"Miyu, what is your primary goal?" She knew the answer this time, and gave the proper response.

"To assist in the capture of former HiMEs, and bring them to Searrs headquarters for further analysis." She sensed the technician was pleased with her answer, his fingers moving along the various input terminals as he altered the synaptic thresholds on the android's neural network.

"Who is Alyssa Searrs?" Her body twitched in the suspension fluid. "Miyu? Logic directive override. Confirm: who is Alyssa Searrs?"

"Compliance. Former HiME. Serial number: one forty three of the Millennium series. First successful artificial bio-organism capable of manipulating higher order matter. Currently under controlled observation."

"What is your relationship with Alyssa Searrs?"

She obediently searched the nearly endless banks of memory for a link between them _ojousama_ and found nothing. The golden light faded, faded, a candle flame guttering in a stiff breeze, and winked out. _As it has once before._ When? She could no longer remember. "Insufficient data to determine relationship with subject Searrs, Alyssa. Awaiting input."

The technician swiveled in his char, addressing another person who was, presumably, standing next to him, watching the readouts. "I believe she is ready to resume her duties. I've wiped most of her long-term memory, except those parts specifically relating to the HiMEs. All non essential higher memory function was streamlined to fit whatever position we feel appropriate."

"Very good. Then give her the assignment." It was a voice Miyu didn't recognize.

"Yes, sir." New information flooded her mind, and she curiously sifted through it.

"Miyu, confirm: what is your assignment?"

"Compliance: to incapacitate and contain target within the parameters of non-lethal method. Target is to sustain minimal damage. Query – target will be difficult to contain using non-lethal measures; target has lost the ability to manifest higher order matter manipulation. I won't be able to disrupt this energy to render unconsciousness. Request permission to use whatever force necessary to accomplish primary objective."

The second man spoke, leaning closer to the microphone. "Denied. Your target is not to be harmed, merely detained. Confirm."

"Compliance: target is not to be harmed."

* * *

It stank. Reeking of long dampened embers, the air held the stench of scorched plaster and flame gnawed wood. Splashing through absented puddles of ash, she continued through the rooms, pausing only to push aside fallen beams, or kick carelessly discarded items out of her way; they held no meaning in their misshapen grandeur. Natsuki stumbled on some unseen object, below the surface of standing water, and caught the edge of the archway between what had once been her living room and what was left of her kitchen. They'd even overturned her refrigerator, strewing its contents across the floor as they ransacked, room by room, methodically hunting for whatever they'd been sent to recover._ What? Did they think I was hiding in the goddamn freezer?_ How moronic.

She stepped around the piece of art nouveau an ice tray had melted into. There was nothing left, no convenient stash of overlooked items. Nothing outside those garbage bags survived. She startled herself with the sound of laughter. This wasn't funny. It wasn't funny at all._ Where am I going to go now? Where do I have left to go?_ She pressed her face into the wall, cushioning her head in the crook of one elbow. _My life is shit._

She heard the pressure of displaced air as the hammer fell, a clock ticking away the absence of time to be. Crouching was instinctual; she focused her senses on the sound of the shapes surrounding her, ignoring the sting of splinters torn loose from the wall as the bullet buried itself above her head. _You're so dead._ Her lip twitched, pulling back from her teeth in a bestial grimace. She dropped to the floor, flipping onto her side as she propelled herself through the archway with her toes. The man wasn't prepared; she grasped the cuff of his black slacks, fingers tightening into a fist, and yanked him off balance. The opposite arm rose as the man descended, curling with satisfying strength around his groin. She lifted him up by his testes, denying him the motions necessary to regain his footing, and he squealed in terrified anger.

_Yes, yes, yes._ Their eyes met as he fell. Her head jerked to the side as he fired into her face. The brilliant flare from the muzzle was blinding, but she didn't need to see. She ignored the burn as she ignored the sting from her splinter-abraded cheek. The bullet grazed her ear, left a line of fire across her shoulder. None of that mattered. She ground her hand into the interposing bits of flesh between them, wanting pain for pain. _Make you pay. _Her attacker doubled over, trying to clutch his privates, and she slammed her fist into his throat, grabbed his gun from numbed fingers, brought it down across the bridge of his nose, sending fragments of bone into his brain. He died convulsing beside her. _No longer a threat._

She crawled to her knees, head lowered as it swayed, side to side, tracking the other targets scrambling for cover. She shifted her grip on the gun, held it parallel to the carpet as she fired; she noted the choking breath rewarding her actions and dismissed this target from her thoughts. Another rushed. She fell to one side, landing on her shoulder as she fired, but the gun was jammed, probably damaged when she'd smashed in the dead man's nose. She snarled as a body landed on top of her, pinning the hand holding the gun above her head. Agony erupted across her abdomen as the man's knee rammed into her stomach and side, the pain intensifying with each thrust; she gasped, trying to control the reflex to vomit.

He had his fingers around her throat, further cutting off her air supply. She shoved her unpinned arm between them, wrapping it around the obstacle strangling her. She wrenched the arm she'd trapped away from his body, snapping the bone as it pulled halfway out of its socket. Natsuki rolled atop the screaming man, dropping the pistol. Her fingers locked themselves around his trachea, pressing inward as she lifted, ripping his throat out. _Yes, yes, yes._ An idiot's rhyme, the words repeated themselves in her mind.

She caught the foot before it impacted the side of her skull, jumped to her feet in fluid motion. She side-stepped his knife thrust, letting him continue the motion; he rotated to recover his positioning and she spun him away as she snaked her arm around his neck, snapping it with a single, violent shake. She was panting, her eyes stung from the blood dripping into them. She released the corpse in her arms, her glance narrowed, savage, seeking additional prey, but she'd broken all her toys.

Her breathing slowed, and she leaned into her wounded side. _Broke my ribs again._ This was the first coherent thought since descending into… whatever that had been. Her head ached, and she had the rather nauseating flavor of copper coating her tongue. She limped from the carnage, trying to get her bearings. She couldn't ever remember being so full of rage, so out of control. She'd never actually killed anyone with bare hands before. She looked at the guilty appendages, trembling. They were covered in the sticky, crimson residue of her actions, and she wiped them across the front of her shirt, leaving gory streaks. _Oh god._ She whimpered, falling to her knees, her body sicking up the contents of her stomach before she hit the floor.

The lone figure standing in the corner caught her completely by surprise. Something wrapped around her neck, pushed against the back of her head, pressing her more firmly into the asphyxiating embrace. _Missed one? _She choked on the vomit filling her mouth, her eyes rolling up as she flailed helplessly, vision dimming until she slumped, unmoving, in cold, lifeless arms.

The figure scanned its target for injury, noting various bruises and scrapes, the partially damaged retina, the broken eardrum, the hairline fractures in the bottommost ribs on the right hand side. It dutifully injected the unconscious girl with painkillers and synthesized amino acids to speed along the recovery process, then moved over to one of the bodies, removing a cell phone from his inside jacket pocket. It accessed the stored numbers before selecting one and dialing, leaving the line open. This was District's mess – they could leave it, or clean it up as they saw fit. It wasn't in its programming to dispose of the evidence.

The android returned to the sleeping HiME and gathered her into its arms, carrying her away. Footsteps descended the stairs, growing fainter, and soon the only sound in the room was the frantic, far away voice from the dead man's phone.

* * *

The girl in the chair slumped, supported only by the straps across her chest, the ties strapping her wrist and ankles, holding her upright. He wondered if she could even understand where she was any longer, or if that, too, had passed down the halls of forgotten remembrance, if she'd ceased wondering why she was being tortured, retreated completely into the hallucinations they supplied her with as her psyche unraveled.

He watched the men in the white coats yank her head back roughly, shining their pencil lights into the vacant emptiness that had once been her eyes. The windows to the soul. He thought it would be more difficult; this job, his mission. She was his responsibility now, and he supposed that was only fair. He'd taken from her, taken what she cared about most, put a bullet in its brain and smothered her with the convulsing body to silence her cries for help.

And so he watched, and never turned away, not after the injections, not after they starved her, not after they deprived her of sleep, not after they led her, staggering and blindfolded, from one room to the next, depriving her senses, one by one. Not even after they'd started electrocuting her, guiding her mind down the paths they whispered in her ear. He didn't look away, because he was the shepherd, and she his lamb. The men in white coats departed, and the process began once more. The watcher left after a few more minutes; it was time to complete his rounds.

Her howls echoed through the deserted hallways, begging for release, but there was no one present to answer these pleas. She was completely alone.

* * *

Shizuru carefully folded the linen napkin over the contents of her large bento box, smiling with self-amusement. She'd needed something to occupy her time, to keep herself actively engaged, and away from the pressing worries Natsuki was in danger, so she'd cooked for the hidden observers; attractive delicacies, each one an aesthetic masterpiece of form and function, for each contained one removed device for gathering information within her home. Considering the nature of the intrusion, she was, most assuredly, being very polite to return them in wake of these men's' thoughtless disposal of their micro-cameras, their microphones, their heat sensing devices.

She'd also made them tea and diafuku, each in separate containers, placed the entire meal on a tray and carried it outside, setting it with elegant care on the sidewalk, lowered herself into the grass to have a cup of tea, and departed as silently as she'd appeared. It was good to occupy herself with petty vindications. She watched a man in a jogging suit casually collect the tray and make off with it in satisfaction. She honestly hoped they would enjoy the repast, as it was likely the last they would be able to appreciate.

She watched the sun creep towards the horizon, and it was as beautiful as it always was, but this wonder couldn't hold her attention. She resumed her position on the couch, leaned forward to read through her email once more. It was obvious there were at least two factions in this contest. One was using guile, revealing the threat the opposing side posed, offering truce, perhaps, with the exchange of information. The email hadn't been misleading; it correctly exposed the danger Natsuki had been in, a time, a place. Shizuru suspected this same group, whoever they were, had given her precious one hints on District's acquisition. The various bits released to them had two distinct flavors, one more immediate than the other.

The room was growing darker, shadows taking their accustomed positions, creeping along the floorboards, lengthening the halls; she rarely used lights unless there was company. The small box on the table cast its own shadow, mingling, undisturbed for now, with the others. Nao should be starting her dance soon. Shizuru listened to the quiet. She wondered if she listened intently enough if she could catch the sound of their screams.

* * *

Nao kicked the man lying in front of her in the face after asking her question, ignoring the men behind her as they struggled in their bindings. Men were simple creatures, they had a limited scope of action, dictated by an even more limited mentality. Their lives were dominated by the base needs, straightforward and easily bent to her will, lacking the complexity she associated with her own gender. She'd spent her life observing and categorizing this impetus: if it wasn't sex or money, food or shelter, it was pride, masquerading as honor.

She pressed her foot into the man's stomach firmly. "You're beginning to bore me. Tell me who you're working for, and I'll let you go." It was a simple proposition. She watched his face intently as he licked his lips, glancing between her and the men behind them. He opened his mouth to answer, and she kicked him in the face again, sighing. "No imagination. If you aren't going to answer me honestly, just tell me so, and I'll ask one of them." She flicked her hand in the direction of the bound figures behind her. These men redoubled their efforts to escape.

She smiled, leaning over to press the barbed nails of her metallic glove against the side of the man's nose, close to his eye, and he tried to cover his face with his arms, uttering frightened little sounds. Her smile widened. "That's more like it."

The man trembled as he watched the murderous red haired teenager lick the back of her hand, as if she were a cat, cleaning itself. "We work for the military."

Nao chuckled, withdrawing her Element. He was telling the truth this time. "And what does the military want with little me?" The man averted his gaze. _He doesn't know. Pity._ She searched his pockets, as she had the other men, and removed whatever she found, lifted him in her arms, and deposited him in the back of the truck with the others.

"What... what are you going to do with us?" She slipped behind the steering wheel without answering him, and drove into town, searching for a suitable location, a place which would be ignored this time of night, but easily visible in the morning.

The truck shuddered to a stop, and she carefully stripped the men to their boxers, rearranging their ties to accommodate another rope, attaching it between their ankles. She hoisted them over the railing of the building in front of her, suspending them upside down, one at a time. Their clothes she left in untidy bundles beneath their heads, each one according to the their ownership.

"You can't leave us here like this! You promised to let us go!" She patted the man who'd answered her question lightly on the cheek before taping his mouth shut. _While the cat's away, the mice will play – when the cat returns, there's hell to pay._ Men never learned this. She hoped they never would.


	9. Chapter 9 : Illusions

**A/N:** The last chapter seemed to be very well received, which makes me very happy. I hope this one goes half so well. Also, for those of you who also paint the pretty pretty lights, please, continue. Each of the authors here continues to amaze and delight me.

**Silent Ee: **Mmm, I endeavor to be painfully precise in my word choice, save the notable exception of metaphorical muse, which is more poetry than precision. I did indeed say genetics – let the mice free to play with the cheese. It is true, I do not deserve my editor, but I strive with every ounce of mental sweat to be worthy of her assistance.

Toki, Toki, BOOM. I am very glad the combat scene received such high praise. I re-wrote it about eleven times. In keeping with my perception of Nao's character in the anime, she prefers intimidation to actual violence, at least when it came to humans. The it, the eternal it. That was a last minute decision on my part. The watcher, he removes to protect himself from his actions.

**EA Simpson: **I update as well as I can, as quickly as my perfectionism, editor, and wordsmything will allow. Angst is to be savored, like wine (whine). Thank you! Once again, it is gratifying to know I haven't butchered the interrelations between the characters. Especially Shizuru and Nao. Hmm… some of the HiME have their elements. Nao and Shizuru do, for certain. This is the second time Natsuki has lost her control. Others suffer some sickness of the soul, or ignorance (is bliss), preventing them from this manifestation. Your guess is as good as mine which is which. ;)

**Nocturne:** My editor appreciates your praise – the title suggestion was Felisse's – I liked it. Keep enjoying! That's my goal. Intelligence? Where? As for enjoying the baser things in life… (hides manga) shame on you. I never do that. I cannot take the credit for good grammar, but I will happily steal any and all compliments on the plot, and asinine level of control. Peace on. ;)

**Alida:** Gah! So many Scooby Snacks… so little time. Wait, I have freezer room. (steals the plushie) Nyah nyah. Mine. Don't worry. The brainwashed (whitewashed?) person will be revealed in time. I could so see Shizuru baking the bugs into pastries. Of course, then my imagination went wild. I don't think she would suppository them. Good thing I have an editor, eh?

**Kiltmandu:** Introspection is something I enjoy. Wait… you mean there's a world outside my mind? When did this happen? I always knew Natsuki had that Killer Instinct. She beat me on my console game the other day. Who says androids don't have a sense of humor? Ok. Maybe that would be better simplified as – who says androids' brains are in their head? No one knows what they are dealing with when they take on Shizuru. 'Which personality are we today, Fujino? Am I talking to Miranda right now?' You haven't started the fan club yet? Slacker. ;)

**Naked Fish:** Ahh, so astute of you! I am not at liberty to spoil my own plots (clears throat nervously) but I will say this – you nailed one of them. Nailed good and hard.

**Shigan:** Ahh! You got visions of tanks! All I got in my imaginary stocking was the theme song for 'Attack of the Killer Tomatoes' playing in the background as Shizuru lead an army of particularly perturbed, categorically confused vegetables into battle.

**XSojix:** Cooookkiiieeess! Me likes cookies. Me loves Miyu. Really glad you enjoyed this one. ;)

**Johnny:** Well, it's really hard to put together a three dimensional puzzle with no edges. Trust me. I've tried. Thanks for saying I'm skilled. I think I have skillz too. BS skillz even.

**Kieli:** On Natsuki and intelligence – that's a treatise in the making. She isn't stupid… what she does have (one of my love, hate flaws for her) is a seemingly stupendous amount of overconfidence. She was always rushing off to take out the big bads all by herself. From the second episode on. I'm sensing… a theme here. I don't think she was _surprised_ First was there. I just don't think she cared. I have a most excellent reader at my beck and call. OW! What? It was a compliment! (runs)

**Felisse:** (loves on the leash) Tis best for you to tie me off in the dogrun, or I'd be chasing the cars as they pass by. For this, and may other things – you are adored.

**Suikun:** A mountain of blessings upon you; I find myself mesmerized by your comments. I apologize chronological distress. The weave, meshing together various patches into some form of pattern is something I really enjoy, but can only maintain quality in concentrated doses, hence the shortness of each section. Oooh, the action was like Noir – that makes me absolutely giddy. Natsuki has to let something very important to herself die in order to grow. Denial is part of the grieving process; I wanted to portray this.

I cannot confirm the identity of the person in the chair, but I feel very comfortable removing Fumi from the prospects. Such would take more than backtracking – it would take cartwheels through a large, flaming hoop. Hmmm… More than one group is playing HiME-mon (gotta catch 'em all), this is quite correct, but the number is fewer than four. The loss of something as innnate is bound to have repercussions. ;)

I choose my words as exactingly as I can. There are several contributing factors to Shizuru's actions. I try to reveal these motivations as she reflects. Each is equally valid – they all apply. I had no intention of beating the reader about the head and shoulders with their carnal exploits… Akira restated the phrase merely because she was pissed at him for bringing it up in the first place, an eccentricity I share – if irritated, when I suggest someone do something, if they ask, 'right now?', my initial spoken response is, 'yes, right now.' I fall back on internal modeling for dialogue choices, most of the time.

I am … unclear? about the exact distinction between T and M ratings, but I will try to keep this work a Teen friendly creation. Emotions are more dramatic than explicit descriptions, to me, so I should be safe. I hope. Let me know when I get to angst, romance, drama turning point; I only have one such moment planned for this work.

**Amnesia nymph, b14ck-r053, D:** So glad you're all enjoying the ride – I don't want to let you down.

Ack! Long A/N. Gomen. This chapter explores a few dynamics between the various characters, lights a tiny candle to explore the corners of the room. It draws the hopscotch grin the characters will be pushed into in the next chapter. The two chapters are so closely related to one another I debated not splitting them, but in the end, common sense and Felisse won me over. Mind the gap. That first step is a killer.

* * *

**Chapter 9   
**

Nao didn't bother knocking; she walked through the open door and deposited herself on the couch, noting with wry amusement Shizuru had returned to her vigil by the window. The room was doused in darkness, and Nao studied the quiet figure, cast half in shadow, half in light from the streetlamps, wondering if she was trying out for the lead in a 'tragic heroine' play. This image was so convincing, she almost expected Shizuru to hold out a human skull, musing upon the reasons for its owner's untimely demise.

The figure by the window did, indeed, raise her hand, but it wasn't holding anything. Shizuru placed it flush with the pane at eye level, as if she were looking through her fingers, consumed with some abstraction of thought none could comprehend, let alone follow.

"Did you kill them?"

Nao raised her eyebrow in surprise. It had never occurred to her to actually do away with the soldiers, it hardly seemed worth the effort when humiliating them was just as effective, and twice as entertaining. She lifted her shoulder. "I prefer playing with my food. They got what they deserved. Besides, I think you already knew why they were there, didn't you, Fujino-_sama_?"

The older woman curled her fingers on the glass. "So. You let them go." The tone was terse; Nao focused her attention on Shizuru's reflection, as if the older woman had shortened the leash suddenly, choking her. She noticed the sharply indrawn breath, the disapproving frown, the thinly veiled reproach shining in her mute glare.

"I told you I wasn't going to kill them. I don't have as much energy as you do."

Shizuru smiled slightly at the comment. The younger girl was being snide. _Too young, too immature to understand what we're up against. _Yes, she would have killed them, without a second's pause. Enemies were to be treated as such. If they dared to raise their hand, it was her responsibility to show them their place. Regrettable, but necessary. She never enjoyed hurting others, or fed from the gutter of her victim's agony, never relished the tears or sorrow she left in her wake. It was simply a matter of economics. The energy spent removing them sooner saved unnecessary strife later. _That which doesn't kill you, tries and tries again._ Even Natsuki realized this, she was simply willing to make a lesson of respect, grant them doubt's benefit.

Shizuru turned to regard her stray with unblinking eyes, observing the character her actions revealed. She hadn't the time to teach Nao these things – the girl's defense mechanisms, her patterns of survival, were too ingrained. She was too angry, too violent to be honed into a finer tool. The younger girl's shortcomings reminded her of Natsuki; that was one of the reasons she'd accepted Nao as her foundling. Yet, the weight of familiarity was unevenly distributed in Shizuru's mind. The differences held greater sway. Nao had been correct: she and her mother suffered the burden of Shizuru's charity.

Nao sneered, her contempt bled through the distance between them as she looked away.

"Who did they work for?"

The redhead crossed her arms in front of her chest defiantly. "Does it matter?"

Shizuru laughed softly, her footsteps silent as she carried herself to the sulking girl and knelt in front of her. "What does one do with a broken teacup?" The tension between them growled, baring fangs. "One mends it, or throws it away. Does Yuuki-san understand?"

That smile, that infuriating, demure smile looked so natural on the honey-haired woman's face, it was easy to believe nothing could tamper with the fixed serenity, the poise, the confidence. But they both knew that wasn't true. There was one thing which could soil the illusion, tear the calm indifference from her skin and bare the creature beneath. Nao never wanted to see the monster again. She involuntarily leaned back from those intently compassionate strawberry-hazel eyes, sensing there was unstated anticipation; Shizuru was waiting.

_Broken cup. Pot. Kettle. Black._ But this thought was far away. There was something magnetic about those eyes, compelling, seductive emptiness, like a cobra, sinuously swaying from side to side. The final notes of her own requiem, lost amidst the gossamer strands of tea shaded hair as Shizuru leaned forward, demanding her acquiescence. A part of her wanted to answer that request, wanted to finish the hymn before that sustained note of contested dominance drove her insane, wanted to accept the death offered in that stare. And then the woman blinked, and the moment drifted away, as if it had never existed. Nao shivered, her pupils dilated in fear. _It's an illusion, just another trick._ She was herself and Shizuru was just a girl once more. An aching, lonely girl, desperately clinging to her last hope for humanity.

"If it didn't matter, I wouldn't have asked."

Nao cleared her throat uncomfortably; her mouth was very dry. "They said they worked for the military."

Shizuru made a sound of assent, rising and returning to the window. "You should go see your mother. I'm sure she misses you."

For once, the sting of being dismissed didn't coat the back of her tongue with metallic resentment. Nao was happy to leave the devil to its own devices. She had no idea how Natsuki could love this thing. _A woman without pity is to be pitied, for she has only remorse to warm her bed._ Kuga was a fool. Nao suspected she'd never taken the time to really look into the autumn depths of her lover's eyes. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt: if she ever craved death, Shizuru would be more than happy to comply.

* * *

Two days. Two days without contact. Shizuru paced, her hands repositioning themselves without thought, fluttering from lying across her stomach to stroking the side of her cheek with the backs of her fingers. Her control over her emotions was fracturing. The importance of staying still suffocated under the oppressive realization she shouldn't have let Natsuki leave, should have insisted she accept accompaniment, or followed Yuuki's suggestion, sent Nao to shadow the dark haired woman. Natsuki was so impulsive, so stubborn, so arrogant in her determination to shut Shizuru out of her life. _Pushing, always pushing, bloodying her gums, chewing her way through the bars. _"But it's not, Natsuki." _Not your cage. Mine._

Her arms crossed over her chest, pressed tightly to her shoulders. Nao had left shortly after delivering her information, leaving everything but the money from the soldier's wallets, which she kept for herself. The military. District. If they were watching her movements, they would watch Natsuki's apartment as well, waiting for her to return. Her strides lengthened, carrying her around the living room as she traced the boundaries. The scream was building, pressing against her chest from the inside out, clawing its way to the back of her throat. She was faint from the effort to keep the voices still, feeding the beast bits of herself to sate its hunger.

She took a deep breath, willed her body into submission, trembling with exhaustion. _I don't know for sure…_ Yes, she did. _Don't know that something sinister __has happened…_ It had. The police confirmed they'd located her car, parked in front of Natsuki's building. There had been signs of an attack, a single bloody handprint smeared close to the light-switch, but they'd been unable or unwilling to share any additional information with her over the phone, even when she used political manipulation. Going to the station would be meaningless, it would only expose her to their expectations. She was no longer sure she could hold the mirror to her face, turn aside their concerns for her well being with benignly peaceful assurances; drawing added scrutiny to her beloved's absence would put Natsuki at higher risk.

She'd just turned to brew herself another cup of tea when her computer beeped. It wouldn't be Natsuki, she had too little patience with the devices to send an email, but it might be information about her whereabouts; supplementary debt from the masked performer in this play. She knelt beside the computer, sitting back in surprise. _A video conferencing request?_ This was something she hadn't anticipated. She opened the connection, secure in the knowledge her own visage wouldn't be transmitted, only her voice.

The screen blinked, showing a blond man with glasses smiling pleasantly into the camera. She couldn't make out any distinguishing features that would help her find his location. It was a room, not unlike others, with white walls and a large mahogany desk. The man leaned forward as he spoke. "Fujino-sama, it's an honor to finally speak with you. An oversight I could no longer condone. I trust you are doing well?"

He used the honorific? "Mmmm, you must be the one who sent the email. Please, allow me to express my gratitude in person."

The man chuckled, supporting his chin on laced fingers. "That won't be necessary. I think you understand why we chose to bring this matter to your attention. After all, we both have an interest in princess Natsuki's well being." She offered no comment to this statement and he continued. "Sad to say, a rather embarrassing event has taken place, and the princess is no longer within our ability to watch over."

Her breathing accelerated; she gripped the edge of the table, trying to keep the snarl out of her voice. "So. Are you able to determine where Kuga-san is now?"

"Perhaps." He sounded honestly regretful of the necessity to involve her in this matter. "These things are very delicate. We must be cautious in our involvement, or it may spill into open warfare; an event we are unwilling to take responsibility for."

Shizuru tightened her hold on the table; the wood began to buckle. "It is presumptuous to assume I would believe you. Kuga-san is just as likely to be in your hands."

The man on the screen coughed softly. "It is of no consequence to us if you act on the information we offer. If princess Natsuki dies, we will shift our focus to another HiME. But it would be a shame. We'd hoped to ally ourselves with the HiMEs who retained their abilities, which includes you, and with some direction, princess Natsuki as well."

The muscles under her eye twitched. "Why?"

"That's too direct a question, Fujino-sama; how unlike you. I cannot give this information without certain assurances. I'm sure you understand."

She rankled under the implied accusation, forced herself to smile, to keep the unapproachable, courteous tone. "It is impolite to ask a favor without introducing yourself."

His eyebrows rose. "You haven't opened the clue-box? Ahh, I see. Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Mr. John Smith, head of publicity, Searrs Corporation."

* * *

Natsuki coughed, sputtering as the cold water drenched her, running into her eyes, into her mouth. _Ow._ Her arms were numb, full of the stinging, intangible bites of poor circulation. She shook her head, trying to clear the water out of her face, her eyes focusing on the floor below. She was dangling from what was probably a beam or a pipe, above and behind her, with only the tips of her toes touching the ground. She shifted her weight, trying to encourage feeling into her hands, the part of her body suffering most from her position as her arms, tightly wrapped behind her back, bore the full brunt of her body weight.

Other than the discomfort of being suspended, everything else seemed to be in working order. Even the tenderness in her side had disappeared. _I'm healed?_ She wondered how long she'd been unconscious. More than a day. It was impossible to tell beyond this.

"Ah, you've awakened. I'm glad; I was beginning to worry District's men had been too rough with you." The voice conjured a picture in her mind. She knew this man, though she'd only met him once, on the night Akira fell, and Mai wandered away to deal with the death of her brother on her own. She'd been cold and wet on that night as well. _Must be trying to maintain a theme._

"Of course I'm awake. You just threw ice water in my face. Baka."

The voice laughed. "I apologize. Time is working against us, and we have many things to discuss."

"I have nothing to say to you, Smith. Our conversation ended when you told me my mother was going to sell me to Searrs as a lab rat." She looked around for the impeccably tidy man, but the only one present in this room was female. She blinked in surprise. "Miyu!" So, the android had gotten the best of her again. How humiliating. The android's mouth was open, a blank expression on her face, as if she were a puppet whose strings were cut. She realized Smith's voice was being relayed to her through the automaton, as if one of her many Swiss Army Knife abilities included mobile walkie-talkie.

She grunted. "Afraid to face me in person? Afraid what I might do if I get free?" It was childish to bait him, but she didn't care. It made her feel better. She tested the strength of her captivity, bunching her shoulders and felt the immediate strain between her shoulder blades. It was a thorough job, but she could feel the tension's stress points. She'd be able to work her way free, if she didn't mind rolling her arm out of its socket. She didn't.

"That crossed my mind, yes. But, as you can see, you are unharmed. Your wounds have been treated, and you are now awake to ask me questions. We don't want you damaged. That wouldn't serve our purposes. Nor do we want you dead. Unlike District, we believe you are a greater potential asset alive. That is why you were brought here, why we assisted you earlier, at the mechanic's."

_You goddamn well could have taken out the men hiding in my apartment, if you were so worried about me._ _Wait…_ "Did you just say you were the one who launched the rocket into the garage?"

Another laugh. "Not me personally, but Searrs, yes."

Fury slashed through her, and she tugged at the restraints with renewed vigor. "You ass! You blew up my goddamn bike! Do you have any idea how expensive that's going to be to replace?" She managed to work her wrist free. "If you're trying to get on my good side, you're doing a piss poor job."

"Please, calm yourself. That's one of the reasons you're here. We wish to make a peace offering. In your pants pocket are the keys to a substitute, one which we hope will lessen your negative opinion of us. The expense isn't a concern; we own several leading automotive companies, and it was a small matter to procure a motorcycle. You are under no obligation to us by accepting – we are repaying a loss, not bribing you."

_Braggart. _She sighed, using her free hand to work at the knots holding her arms together. "All right. You have my attention. Why am I here, Smith? You could have parked the bike in my driveway. So obviously you have something else to tell me."

The android nodded, still with the blank expression on her face. It was creepy. "We do. I'd hoped you would be further along in your investigations… your… reconciliation. In your current state, you are of no more worth to us than your life is to the District. We have great interest in returning princess Natsuki to her birthright."

She flushed. He was talking about her inability to call on her Elements. "Why? You were doing a damn good job of making sure I couldn't use my abilities during the Festival," she snarled.

"An unfortunate byproduct of our desire for you to win. The emotions you relied on, the memory of your mother, wasn't strong enough to accomplish this. We removed it." Smith was quiet for a few moments, letting this bit of 'assistance' sink in. "I was very surprised at the outcome of our intervention. I had no idea the relationship between you and Fujino-sama was so strong, or that you would choose to fulfill her suicidal wishes by destroying her Child. Most unexpected. We were forced to re-evaluate the equation."

He was smiling, she just knew the bastard was grinning in smug satisfaction. "Fuck you. I have no reason to listen to your lies. It was up to me how I used them." He had no right to openly discuss her personal issues, as if this was a game of chess, and she was the helpless pawn, moved across the board for his personal pleasure. _Even if I am. Especially if I am._

"Take this warning for what it is. Searrs isn't the only one trying to form a partnership with the remaining HiME. We aren't the only ones to realize – if you have one, you control the other. We should be very clear on this point, princess. The weakest have already been claimed. District has made attempts on your life twice now without succeeding.'

"They are organized. They will take by force what Searrs wants to negotiate for. If they can't get what they want, the next logical step is…" He trailed off, letting Natsuki draw her own conclusions.

"Taking the things we care about." She slumped. _Why? Why was it always like this?_

"Yes. I've left you a present on the motorcycle, something I think you will find very enlightening. You're a lost sheep, and we want to bring you home. It is up to you, of course, but the time is coming, very soon, when you'll have to decide things of greater importance than your relationships. You should be prepared. And I think you, especially, should hurry."

Natsuki wasn't paying attention to the robot any longer. She didn't notice when it left, though, on some level she registered she was alone. She wasn't surprised when she looked around and saw nothing but an empty room.

"Oi! Aren't you going to untie me? OI!" She snorted, resuming her labors to extricate herself. _Some benefactor. With guardians like this, we don't need enemies._ She popped her arm out of its socket with a hiss and gradually slipped the ropes past her elbow. It was easy to work her way free after that.

Natsuki dropped to the floor, rolled her shoulder back into place, and pondered what to do next. Smith had been successful in one regard. The positions had been reversed – she was no longer the hunter. She was the hunted. About the rest of it, she wasn't sure. _Lost sheep? Home? I have no home. I haven't since Okaasan tried to escape with me that night._ The other warnings came across more as poorly disguised threats, but she'd learned a few things: District was trying to collect them all, as if the Carnival had never happened. _Or was about to happen again._ She shuddered. Evening imagining such a thing was too horrible to contemplate.

She fished around in her pocket, pulled out the tiny set of keys and dangled them on a finger, watching the light play over them as they pendulumed in front of her. _Accept the devil's bargain, or spend the next six months riding the bus?_ That, at least, had a simple answer. She hadn't agreed to anything – if Smith forced the issue, she'd return it to him. Roll it right into Searrs' Corp. headquarters with a lit rag stuffed into the gas tank. She smiled. She could really go for the sound of breaking glass, and accelerant driven shrapnel about now. She flipped her hair over her shoulder as she walked to the door and descended the stairs. _Serve him right if I do. Teach him to pour salt in my wounds._

She turned the corner, taking stock of his peace offering, and then she fell in love, quite forgetting she was still angry. She traced the lustrous curves, admired the quality and craftsmanship of the vehicle in front of her. This wasn't just a motorcycle. It was a chariot for gods, the fifth horse of the apocalypse. Oily jet black, with crimson racing stripes, twice the horsepower and gas capacity of her old one, a lower, lengthened body, almost canine in appearance – like a wolf, stretching its forequarters before leaping for an enemy's throat. It reminded her of Duran.

She patted the seat affectionately before mounting. It was a good bike. "Maybe that's what I'll call you, eh? Duran." She smiled and slipped the key into the ignition, overlooking Smith's present until it fell, echoing on the cement floor. She bent over to retrieve it, thinking it looked very familiar. It was an exact replica of the box she hadn't opened yet… the one she'd left on Shizuru's coffee table. "Shizuru, shit!" Her friend would be going out of her mind with worry; she'd probably called out the search and rescue teams, peeking in every dumpster, ally and bar in Fuuka by now.

Her glance lowered, twitching involuntarily as her gaze lingered on the dull russet streaks bisecting her chest. No, she wasn't ready to return to the private dormitories just yet, but she could call, let the honey-haired woman know she was alive and well. She pulled out her cell phone and hit speed-dial, listening to the ominous sound of being ignored. She sighed and flipped the phone closed after the fifteenth ring. Her stomach clenched with anxiety. Smith's warning replayed in her mind, and she was torn. She fingered the box, finally settling it between her legs as she leaned forward. She didn't want to be alone when she opened it. _Just in case._ That was as far as she let the thought go before she shut off her inner voice.

Shizuru was fine. She would be fine. And she had a new lead to explore. She only knew two people with computers – one she didn't want to see, and the other… Her contact would probably be home. She gunned the engine, enjoying the low growl as the bike awakened underneath her, carrying her to her new destination. The more information she had, the more capable she'd be of dealing with the unknown.

* * *

Akira paced nervously between the infirmary cots and the desk where the school nurse had her head lowered over the folder in her hands, her fingers underlining the text as she studied it. She flipped through the pages in no particular order, jotting notes on the pad beside her.

"Tell me again how you managed to get a copy of the coroner's report?" Her head didn't lift as she asked, which was a blessing, but Akira fidgeted under the scrutiny regardless.

_Ok, maybe bringing it here wasn't the greatest idea after all._ Still, she'd had no hope of understanding the various charts and tables. She'd only understood two of the written sections: time of death and witness statements. The police report had been much simpler to understand. _Arson – cause of fire, massive fucking explosion._ Akira cleared her throat and decided to take the middle defensive.

"I borrowed it."

The brown haired woman looked up, pausing the footsteps. "Borrowed it?" Akira nodded. "From the Coroner's Office?" Another nod. She sighed and sat back in her chair, tapping her fingernails on the edge of the desk rhythmically. "Is there anything else you want to tell me, Akira-kun?"

Akira laughed a little, scratching the back of her head. "There's really nothing else I can tell you, Sagisawa-sensei. But is there anything weird in there? Anything that doesn't add up?"

The nurse resumed reading the report. "I understand your concern for Takumi-kun, but I'm not sure borrowing sealed documents is the best way…" She trailed off, flipping between two pages quickly. "That's strange." Her brows lowered in concentration as she checked between the pages a third time, referencing the notepad.

Curiosity got the better of her. Akira joined the brown haired woman, trying to decipher the hieroglyphics on the page. "What?"

"The autopsy shows burning found in the lungs, as you'd expect; trace amounts of soot in the trachea, and bronchial tubes, but toxicology shows no carbon monoxide in the blood. That's not possible." Youko glanced up into Akira's scowling face, an expression of such fierce yearning to understand, she couldn't help but smile.

"Eeto… what does that mean?" The secret ninja's pulse settled into an excited trot. _Takumi was right._

"It means that all this," the nurse fanned the file through her fingers, "supports the logical conclusion that Mai-san was alive and breathing up until the time of her death. That she died from exposure to extreme heat. And this," she pointed to a small grouping of percentages labeled with exotic, unpronounceable names, "states that the body examined was either dead before the fire began, or wasn't breathing at all."

_Touchdown! The crowd goes wild._ "And Minagi?"

The nurse blinked in surprise. "You mean you borrowed more than one report?"

"Ahhh, ummm… Here." Akira fished in her book bag for the other folders, handing them to the brown haired woman, and waited impatiently for her to finish them.

Youko sighed in exasperation, opened Mikoto's file and set it aside after scanning the contents.

"Anything?"

"No. All the data in this file support the cause of death." The boy looked crestfallen, and she patted him on the shoulder comfortingly. "It was probably a clerical error of some kind."

Akira frowned in thought, searching for something, anything to confirm or deny her suspicions. "Wait, do they list birthmarks, scars, things like that?"

Sagisawa-sensei nodded, turned to the proper page, a generic female outline with notations in the margins. The dark haired boy scanned over the various annotations, searching for one in particular. His eyes remained on the markings on the right hand side of the body for a second before he grunted, dismissing the file completely. Youko couldn't be sure if he'd found what he was looking for or not.

"I'm sure you're right. It was a clerical error. It's getting late, Sensei. I don't want to trouble you… I should get going."

"Wait…" Her voice grew gentler for a moment. "I know Takumi-kun is having a hard time getting over Mai-san's death. I don't know what you were looking for, what you wanted to find, but I've already started. I might as well finish."

Akira shook her head, gathering the file folders together and returning them to her bag. She'd only taken Shiho's file for completeness sake – she had no questions about this death. Shiho hadn't died from heat exposure. She'd died from a massive head trauma; killed almost instantly, according to the police report. Shiho was also the only one whose family hadn't wanted the body cremated. Akira was very certain the former HiME died in her own trap. She'd seen the body with her own eyes at the funeral.

"All right. You're going to return them to the Coroner's Office, correct?"

"First thing in the morning." The secret ninja nodded, though it wasn't necessary – she'd made photocopies, not taken the originals.

"Get back to your dormitory then. I have work to do." The nurse swiveled in her chair, resuming the tasks she'd set aside to accommodate Akira's strange request.

The boy lingered for a moment longer, shifting his book bag between his hands. "Ano… I know this is probably stupid, but since it was just misplaced paperwork, I don't think it's a good idea to mention this to anyone."

"That's probably for the best." Akira spun quickly, reacting without thought. There was a man standing just inside the doorway; she dropped the bag, sprinted the distance between them, ducking behind his back and pressing three nerve clusters in rapid succession – one to either side of the intruder's body, and the third set deep into the meat above his knee.

The figure collapsed to the floor silently and remained there, panting. Akira stepped back in horror. Her fingertips were on fire, her heart beat so loudly it seemed the backwash of sound should be shattering the windows. She could taste the scent of his skin on her tongue as she wiped her hands vigorously on the front of her shirt, trying to conceal the aggressive blush staining her face. She knew who he was without him needing to speak – only he and Takumi affected her this way.

She darted for her belongings as the man stood, brushing his beautifully tailored uniform to remove the dust from the floor.

"Now, now, Okuzaki-kun. There's no need for such a forceful greeting," he said, turning towards the hall, but the doorway was empty. She was already gone.

* * *

The man sat quietly on the edge of the bed as he studied the comatose girl. Technicians checked the various intravenous drips attached to needles in her arms, verified her vitals were maintained within operational variance. One of the medical staff wrote his update on the chart dangling from the edge of the footboard. He nodded to the blond man and the technicians departed, leaving the two of them alone.

Smith walked over to the giant sword leaning menacingly in the corner. His hand stretched to stroke the extended, leather bound handle, his fingers halting just shy of tactile contact, respecting the warning hum emanating from deep within the blade. He couldn't see the symbol that flashed across the blackened metal, but he knew it was there, nonetheless: a giant, barbed circle with a dot in the center; the HiME symbol had replaced the twin Eyes of Horus when the Obsidian Lord was defeated. He'd researched this phenomenon, but found little historical reference to confirm his theories; the recent Festival had been a novelty on many levels.

_Forged from the spine of the beast itself. _He didn't quite dare name the Element aloud. They'd been forced to move the patient once already, when someone abandoned common sense. Miroku took umbrage with their arrogance, sheared through the wall it rest against, leaving a gaping hole in the side of the building. The blond man chuckled, returning to the girl's side; she thrashed, and he smoothed his fingers through her black, sweat tangled hair. _Don't worry, your brother will be here soon._ The patient's back arched, her fingers burrowing into the bedclothes, as if she were in the grip of a particularly vivid nightmare. And perhaps she was; they all were.


	10. Chapter 10 : Through the Looking Glass

**A/N:** This chapter is incredibly long, so I shan't inflict extensive responses … but please, rest assured, I adore each and every one of you. You are my strength, the foundation upon which I build.

**Devil-urd:** In my fiction, HiME's don't need doctors. They regenerate, but need food to accomplish this. The terms I use to describe the characters are from the perception of the active character.

**Naked Fish:** No more Shiho. You sure did guess right though.

**Kiltmandu:** Madness achieved. Sign me up for the Entropy fan club – you know I love those black spirals.

**Suikun:** So good! Love your reviews. Don't apologize, I take the focus of your comments as a great compliment, and, in some ways, prefer dissection of the plot. Helps me keep things in order.

**B14ck-r053:** I like adding in recognizable 'tag lines'. Glad you liked it.

**Fan-rei:** Possible, but not probable. Wait and see. ;)

**EA Simpson:** Smith has officially taken Nagi's place. Long live the traitors!

**Johnny:** Really enjoyed hearing how much you liked this chapter. Try to keep the Ying with the Yang. Sometimes the Yang gets feisty.

**Alida:** I think there may be some latent subtext in there too. Good thing Natsuki has Shizuru's heart. Shiz with Nao is too scary to contemplate.

See? Not so bad. This chapter, the red headed stepchild to Chapter 9, continues defining the motives between the factions. Reveals a few behind the scenes characters, brings our favorite sentai fetishist into the fray, and plunges our main characters into their own personal hells. Sup – and should this please, expand upon which dishes lingered on the tongue.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Chapter 10**

Nao screamed as the man behind her kicked her in the small of the back, then shoved her down with his steel reinforced sole. Pain flowed through her limbs with nauseating heat; acid welled up in the back of her throat, flooded her mouth, its taste mingled with the coppery flavor of blood. Her eyes closed as she coughed, involuntarily spitting up the vile concoction as she writhed under the soldier's full body weight. He was enjoying himself; she could tell by the vicious way he crushed her into the linoleum – so familiar. She appreciated the sadism for what it was. Revenge.

"Nao-chan!" A voice cried out, immediately silenced. Panic occluded reason; she struggled to disentangle herself in earnest, curling her hand around the bottom of the soldier's foot, the barbs of her Element shredding the thick leather and metal to bury themselves in sensitive skin. Flexing her fingers, she extended the sharp tines into claws, the claws into daggers, and the man howled, falling off her as his foot was impaled on four serrated knives. Her palm twitched, retracting her claws as she tried to focus, tried to get to her knees. Blood plastered her hair to her face, blinding her, and her ears still rang from the rifle butt thrust into her head as the men stormed through their kitchen door.

"Momma!" It was a whine, a pitiful, desperate cry, and she hated the sound of it. Hated being on the receiving end of torment. _The men are in the house again. Oh god, oh god. Momma…_ She slashed the foot trying to sweep her arms out from under her, but this time there was no pleasure in the pain, only cloying fear that left her gasping for breath. _Momma, the men! The men broke into the house, and they… and they…_

"Don't you dare hurt her! Don't hurt Momma!" Time overlapped, tripped over her ability to grasp events as they transpired. _God, my head. My head hurts._ Were these the men from before, the ones that butchered her father, violated her mother, left her to die? Too fast, the shutter jammed open with coarse, uncaring fingers – she couldn't slow her perceptions enough to comprehend. The only thing she was sure of was that she couldn't use her Element to collapse the house – her mother would be buried with the rest.

She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, trying to pull her gore sodden bangs out of her eyes, whimpering. Another steel-toed foot caught her in the side, doubled her over as she fell on her side, wheezing. _I can't breathe._ She curled into a fetal position to protect herself as the blows rained down. Her teeth clamped down on her tongue as another foot slammed into her chin, blood overflowing between her lips, splattering across the floor in an arc, following the line of force. The hum in her ears intensified, deafening her as she howled, a primal sound wrenched from her midsection.

"Grab her hands, you idiot!"

Pain lanced through her body as the shoe closest to her trapped her right hand. _Julia!_ Her mind huddled around the memory of her Child, comforting, bringing a surreal calm that cleared away everything but the will to hurt the men surrounding her. The Child was no longer hers to control, the binding broken when the red star imploded, but she could sense the ethereal, alien presence, wrapping her in a cocoon of shelter. She stopped struggling. These weren't the burglars who'd stolen her childhood from her. They were the soldiers she'd strung up on amusement's whim. She recognized the aftershave her earlier victims had worn. Although, there were more of them then there had been before.

"Get off me," she snarled, removing the arm she'd wrapped over her head to keep it from damage. She stared up at the man standing on her hand, and he slowly lifted his foot, chilled by the waves of murderous intent. _I'm going to kill you. Every last one of you._

"Pick her up." The voice floated from the back of the room from a blond haired man wearing a long coat. It triggered a chord of remembrance, but she couldn't get a good look at him; he turned his back on her before she could blink the crimson tinged tears from her eyes.

Two men lifted her between them with her wrists held painfully behind her back. Anxiety resurfaced, and she scanned the surrounding faces, searching frantically for her mother. There, cradled between the men who restrained her: one of the men had his hand over her mouth, leaving only the upper half of her face visible, beryl-green eyes fever-bright with unspoken terror. Nao thought of the glassy, lifeless stare of a stuffed animal, and she pulled her wrists free, twisted her torso just enough to get a grip on the soldier's shirt. Breathing hard, she heaved him with an over-arm toss into the throng in front of her. The men fell like dominos, her projectile burying himself in the cabinets splintering around him.

The remaining men raised their weapons, and she grinned, extending her Element in a supple striptease; the filaments wrapped themselves around the gun barrels, searing through the metal as she casually tugged her fingers.

"I have no idea what you're doing here, but if you don't leave, I'm going to make each of you regret your stupidity." Now that she could stand on her own facing the enemy, see their fright as they clustered closer together, they once again became what all men were. Nuisances.

The blond man kept his face averted as he unholstered his sidearm, pressing it into the back of her mother's skull. He pulled back the hammer and waited. "This isn't what I want, Yuuki-san, but if you force my hand, I'll pull the trigger. Not even you are fast enough to beat a bullet at this range."

The redhead's eyes narrowed, a venomous, spiteful expression briefly surfacing before it submerged under affected blasé. "Looks like some of the soldier-boys have done their homework, but I don't think you're so eager to die. This is just your crude way of asking for something. We're at a standoff, ne? What do you want?"

"Your cooperation. The government has decided your kind are too dangerous to wander around without someone to look after you."

Nao laughed bitterly. "That sounds familiar. Why don't you say what you really mean? HiMEs make better weapons than citizens. That's what we are – tools." She crossed her arms in front of her chest, turning her face away. "I'm not interested in your petty squabbles, errand-boy." _Better your tool than someone else's._ _Idiots._

She heard a smile in his voice as he answered. "I'm not asking, Yuuki-san. I'm telling. You have the trust of two of the more difficult HiME: Fujino-san and Kuga-san. You will use that trust to persuade them to join District, or we will destroy your life, starting with your mother." The blond man paused, sighing. "I don't like taking hostages, but the power of the HiMEs is too destructive, too easily manipulated. HiMEs are dangerous. Your freedom is expensive; the price is much too high."

_Easily manipulated like what you're doing? Men are such hypocrites – such beggars, such bullies._ The man's head was lowered, the heel of his free palm pressed into his forehead. The redhead inched forward as his attention faltered, hoping to get closer before he noticed, but his finger was already tightening on the trigger; she stopped midstep.

His voice was unsteady, thickly accented with some emotion she couldn't quite grasp. "Don't try my patience, Nao-chan. I have no reason not to kill you both if you won't do what's necessary."

Nao grunted. _Necessary, huh? A true believer._ The vexing certainty he was someone she'd met before skittered about her thoughts, taunting, elusive. She'd remember soon, she just hoped it was soon enough to be of use. "Whatever. You'd have better luck trying to convince them yourselves, though. I'm not high on their guest list." She waved her hand dismissively.

"Unfortunately, that's not an option. One of them is mentally unstable, and the other has uncertain loyalties. There's no suitable leverage to control them with but each other. And unlike you, we haven't been able to catch them by surprise."

Her lips pulled back in a grimace of fury. She lowered her hands to her sides, her fingers straightening as the metallic gloves encasing them sprang to life, extending to their full length. The man ignored this bravado, but must have realized he was treading carelessly through the minefield, pushing too many buttons at once. _Even a trained dog will bite the hand that beats it._ "Your mother will be a guest of the state until you've finished this task, and then she'll be released. I would suggest starting with Fujino-san, but that's completely up to you."

"Why do you even want Kuga? She can't use her Element," she shouted. She studied the man's posture – he seemed surprised by this revelation, and she smiled humorlessly. She had no compunctions about betraying Shizuru's whore, if it would alter the situation in her favor.

The blond man chose to ignore her comment entirely. "Fujino will make a powerful ally if she can be convinced. Even so, District needs some countermeasure to secure her consistency. Surely, even you realize they are a matched set. The ties that bind… bind more than affection. They bind the soul." He cleared his throat, motioning the men to escort Nao's mother out of the house.

She watched helplessly; they were careful. The guns never wavered from their target as they retreated, en masse, through the door they'd entered. The blond man halted a few steps outside the demolished kitchen. "You would make a powerful ally too, Yuuki-san. When the war starts, it's better to be on the right side. Think about it."

The redhead stood calmly with her arms folded over her stomach, memorizing every face she saw. The one in charge, he walked with slow, deliberate steps, favoring his left leg as if it pained him, dragging the foot through the grass. She remained in this pose until the last of their armored convoy rumbled away, then sank to the floor, crying. The nightmare never ended, never left her in peace. Once more, she was the broken toy of spiteful, malicious events ordering themselves beyond her control. The only difference between then and now was her desperation. She'd never been so scared in her life.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Kanzaki-san, I didn't realize you'd returned to the Acadamy." The brown haired woman's voice reflected her surprise as the man standing in the doorway stepped further into the light.

"Minagi," he corrected politely, and she smiled. His manners hadn't changed – still gracious and flatteringly soft spoken. Youko swore she could hear females fainting all across the campus. He stepped a bit closer, extending his hand; she glanced from the extended hand to his embarrassingly charming smile and back again, declining the invitation. He lowered the hand without seeming to notice. _I wonder if he's still trying to seduce me, even after being away for so long? _It was amusing, to be sure, but she'd always been immune to his charisma. Something she suspected constantly irked the young man.

"Minagi-san. What brings you back here? You've been away for a while now." Seven months to be exact, but she felt it impolite to bring this up, considering that the deaths of his sister and the others had occurred in the interim. She'd been concerned for the playboy when he didn't attend the funeral services.

"Ahh, well. After Mai-san made her choice of affections clear between Tate-kun and I, I thought it best to leave them the space they needed." He gave her another of his heart-warming smiles, and the nurse chuckled. _Tate-kun, hmmm?_ Apparently old grudges still applied, even after all that'd happened. "I decided to travel a bit, introspect on what I wanted to do with my time." _Sulk in private._ "And now I'm back."

Reito paused, as if he were considering something he wasn't sure was proper. "Actually, I was wondering if I could ask a favor?" He glanced at the dark haired woman expectantly, and she briefly wondered if he were about to invite her on a date. She wouldn't put it past him. "I've been wandering around the campus looking for my sister, but she will most likely be in Mai-san's company. I was wondering if you'd call their room, perhaps ask Mikoto-chan if she'd like to meet me for lunch?"

Youko blinked several times, not quite sure she'd heard him correctly. Her mouth opened to remind him the pair was quite impossible to call, seeing as they were both deceased and thought better of it. However impossible it might seem, he might not have been informed they died, if he'd been traveling constantly. The smile fell from her lips as she considered how to broach the subject tactfully. "Reito, did you overhear the conversation with Akira-kun?"

The insufferably benign curve of his lips reveled nothing, and she resisted the urge to smack him. "I'm not sure what you mean, Youko-sensei."

"When you came in, you said – that's probably for the best. I thought maybe you'd been listening."

He lowered his eyes pleasantly before answering. "I have great faith in Okuzaki-kun's abilities. I was voicing my support as a greeting." The tone was casual, almost offhand, and she sighed. She could never tell whether or not he was lying, deliberately being obtuse. _Probably in retaliation for not swooning under his attention,_ she thought sourly. She wouldn't put _that_ past him either. Aristocracy had its own flavor of punishment, waited until one's back was turned before ripping into the flesh with dainty precision. If it was a deliberate feint, a redirection of genteel animosity, he wasn't going to give her a convenient path to retreat.

She decided it wasn't worth fretting over. "Ano, Minagi-san. Your sister and Mai are both dead. They died in a dormitory fire six months ago, along with Minakata-chan." She hesitated, not wanting to hurt him. "I'm very sorry. I assumed you would have been notified. I should have thought to contact you myself, when I didn't see you at the funeral. I just thought… perhaps you'd chosen to stay away out of grief."

The brown haired woman studied his expression, resigning herself to comfort the striking dark haired boy if he felt the need to cry. Her head tipped to one side. He'd stopped moving entirely, his face a blank mask, clay lacking animation or function. He held himself in this rigid pose for an uncomfortable length of time, and she shivered – backing into her desk. An inner voice of caution screamed at her to flee before life breathed itself back into his body, run away screaming before terrible things happened. It was disconcerting and she marveled, removed from herself as she was, at this completely ludicrous response.

He would never hurt her. He wasn't a creature of violence; he was a bon vivant, a rather foppish, spoiled person who dabbled in the art of bewitching those around him. But something flickered in the depths of his dark eyes, a luminous, golden-eyed presence, lithe and deadly, whose breath blew across her skin in arctic waves as it crouched, panting in the tall dun grass. She shivered, rubbing her hands over her arms to settle the fear prickled flesh back in place.

"Sagisawa-sensei has a very peculiar sense of humor," he whispered, taking a step closer on velvet paws. The image was so clearly defined in her mind – her former student transformed into some unnatural predator, muscles gliding smoothly beneath ebony fur as it menaced closer. She lifted her hand nervously to her mouth as if waiting to stifle unwary sound, not wanting to draw attention to herself. The young man smiled, displacing her imagined threat, and she felt foolish for her reactions, blushing slightly.

"I apologize, I must have misheard you. That's not possible; she invited me here herself a few days ago. She seemed very excited, and I wanted to share in that excitement."

The nurse extended her hand towards him as he turned to leave. "Ano, Minagi-san –"

"Please excuse me. I have some business to attend to. It was a pleasure to see you again, Youko-san. Your beauty never fails to surprise me." He smiled at her warmly, pausing in the doorway, offering her a bow from the waist. "Have a good evening, Sensei."

"Reito-san, wait!" She found herself talking to the echoes of his footsteps as he walked away, and she sighed. _Infuriating man._

She'd recovered from her hallucination, and resumed her seat, thoughtfully nibbling on the inside of her cheek. It was so strange, how oddly people were acting. First Takumi, coming to her few days ago, bashfully admitting to faint, lingering pains in his chest, shortness of breath. Similar side effects to his weakened heart condition before he'd had his operation, but after a through examination, both in her office and at the hospital, he was pronounced completely healthy. She assumed it was traumatic stress, as if he were consciously clinging to embedded patterns of physical discomfort. He'd been obsessing about Mai more and more as the months drifted by; perhaps he needed this psychological crutch to help him cope. She didn't know.

And then Akira-kun somehow managing to steal the medical examiner's reports _God knows how_, asking Sagisawa to search them for an aberration, as if the boy were looking to prove some sort of conspiracy. And now the black-rose prince had returned to the school, claiming Mikoto had invited him here. Not to mention her own completely incomprehensible fantasy to what was obviously denial of her assertion that his only remaining biological family and the unrequited love of his life were deceased. _Where the hell did I get that image from? There's no such thing as a black lion._

She tapped her fingernail on the desk for a few moments, lost in her thoughts. She glanced at her watch. _Not too late yet._ She dialed the number from memory, listened to the far away electronic hiss of over-sea connections being made, as the signal bounced between continents.

"Yo, Youko." She smiled in spite of herself – the unfailingly chipper tones had a tonic-like effect on nearly everyone her flame haired friend talked to. "If you're calling about that forty you _think_ I owe you, I'm going to remind you – you were perfectly sober when you made the bet. I have witnesses."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Midori set her phone down on the table, snatching up the water bottle she'd knocked over in the process, the pensive expression shifting to consternation as she brushed the stray water droplets from the speech she'd been preparing for tomorrow's lecture. The letters smeared across the page as the ink melted under her fingertips and she sighed, crumpling the page in her hand before sitting back in her chair and tossing it into the dustbin. _So much for being prepared._ She shook her head in amusement, crossing her arms to cushion her head as she tipped her head back to stare at the textured patterns on the ceiling.

America was so strange. The people here were difficult to understand, their myriad accents a constant source of confusion. And although the administrators honored tradition, the students themselves had no communal sense of purpose, flowed as restlessly as the ocean in a constant tide of individualistic conformity. At times, she wondered if it had been wise to accompany her professor as he started his lecture tour, but then she'd remember the seriousness of his expression as he thanked her, time and time again, for her peerless organizational skills; for keeping his life on schedule. And now she found herself at Berkeley, somewhere on the west coast, surrounded by a sea of lunatics.

_Fuuka. Funny, I haven't thought about that place in a long time._ And it was strange; she'd never finished her thesis, never felt inclined to complete her research. Of course, that probably had more to do with deliberately dragging her academic feet. She was in no rush to earn her degree – she enjoyed being the professor's graduate student assistant, learned more from following after him as he traveled to points of archeological interest. _Having his undivided attention isn't bad either._ She smiled, following the patterns of shadow dappling the roof. Still… Why had she abandoned her own project? She wasn't quite sure; it just didn't seem so important, what with the Carnival having sung itself hoarse. That part of her life faded into the background of memory, as did people she'd once initiated into the HiME Rangers.

She felt a moment of guilt. _I really should have tried harder to keep in contact, but after Mai died, it all seemed pointless. _She may have been the self-proclaimed leader of their patchwork misfits, the zealous protector of Justice, but Mai was the heart, gently orchestrating the beat by which everyone marched. She'd given them all hope. Right up to the end. "Mai." _I hope you're happy, wherever you are. No one deserves it more than you._

Her feet had worked themselves between her and the desk as she mused, and she abruptly kicked out and propelled herself across the room. Swiveling the chair, she used her sneaker as a bumper to stop by the filing cabinets. Midori reached into the bottom drawer, pulling out a large, dusty accordion folder, unwinding the string and pulling out the bulging pile of information she'd collected. The remnants of her years-long quest, her obsession. She flipped through the nearly endless newspaper clippings, the financial reports, the web searches, the photocopies of historical documents she'd been able to find as she tried to piece together the puzzle.

_What are we? What are HiMEs?_ She still didn't know – she'd refined her queries as the climax of their tragic play descended upon them, focusing on those things of immediate use. _The legend of Ikusahime; dance of the twelve maidens of heaven._ The reason, but not the cause. A slip of paper fluttered to the floor, and she bent to pick it up. A random scrap from her self imposed seclusion, mostly free association: _Festival, twelve…_ Her eyes lingered on a hastily scrawled speculation. _Fuuka Fuka?_ She slipped the papers back into the overflowing container and attached the string to close it, scooting the chair back to the desk. _Maybe it's time to go back to the beginning._

Midori's hands hovered over the keyboard of her computer as she made flight reservations for the coming morning. She'd explain it to the professor later – he was always saying she should follow her instincts, and these feelings, the memories rushing back to greet her, held warning and promise both in their opened arms. _Sometimes it's better to let sleeping gods lie. And sometimes it's better to kick the door down and drag them into the light._ She owed it to them, her reluctant rangers, and it was time to pay up. With interest.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The air was cool, carrying a hint of things not spoken, of what might have been, and may yet be. A breeze played with his hair, ruffled the feathered bangs to either side of his ears, swept the hair along the back of his neck forward, and he smiled at its whimsy, lifting a hand to chase it away. His uniform hadn't changed, still swathed him from head to toe in handsome obsidian lines, drawing the eye away from his face, and perhaps that was the manufactured effect. He wasn't cold, as oblivious to the effects of seasons as he was to the pale, imperfect wraiths inhabiting the accommodations around him while he stalked through their midst – predator to prey, securely wrapped in thoughts that bore no part of himself in their movements.

The excitement of being home, close to the bosom of he who was not himself, carried conflicting emotions, joy tinged regret, sorrow flavored abandon, feeding on one another until his steps faltered, forgetting their accustomed grace. He was tempted to rest on one of the benches, but even this concession, to bow under the burden of images he'd never seen, sounds that hadn't broken the silence in thousands of years, filled him with terror. This place claimed him, body and soul. He pressed on, leaning into the wind a bit more, using it for support. It hadn't always been like this.

"Mai." His voice lanced long festering wounds, and he called himself back from these memories, away from his craving for release. Love ached deeper still; she'd taken the pain away. But that wasn't meant to be; he couldn't bring himself to despise this figment of desire, the passion shared between them, himselves. Acceptance brought release as well. His head turned, following the summons, the thread, the binding between the souls. It was calling to him, but now it was multi-directional, strung across his perceptions in a fan, like the strings of a harp, vibrating accompaniment. Here, he was not himself, he was the cancer, the plague, the carrier of their despair, amplifying their pain with his presence, the focus behind their fraying control. Twelve jewels, shining in the palm of his hand, and he, and his sister, forever entwined; he couldn't change this truth, though he would if he could.

He sighed, stepping into the lee of the wall he followed as a group of girls dashed across the commons, giggling with each other. He didn't want to be observed; he watched the girls pass within a few inches of his hiding place, so close their hair brushed against his skin, and then out of sight. They didn't notice him, he had blended seamlessly with the darkness. His nose sampled the afterimage of perfume, and he closed his eyes, drowning his senses in this banquet, though the wearer held no interest for him. She was less than meaningless – a flawed vessel, her life leaking through the cracks, spilling from her pores as she died, minute by minute, with every beat of her heart. All mortal creatures were viewed thusly, on some level. The human mind wasn't designed to withstand the conception of eternity.

He disengaged himself from this distraction, gathered the only tangible thread between his fingers as he walked through the world of cobwebs. Akira wasn't in the dormitory he remembered, but he could find her so long as they were both in Fuuka. _If there was any other way, I wouldn't… I'd leave, and let them rest. _But there wasn't. His sister needed him; her thread was nearly transparent under the tensile strain, humming with misery. If the thread snapped, if she disappeared, he'd have nothing left, no hope of rewriting the wrongs, no penance for his blame, and as fitting a punishment as this may seem, he couldn't allow it. He'd known as soon as his foot touched the soil of his homeland Mikoto hadn't been the one to write him the letter. It changed nothing. He'd wait for his invitation.

In the meantime, there were things to deal with, and much as he regretted gathering the jewels together for his own purposes once more, it couldn't be helped. Okusaki's room was just ahead, through the dust colored doors and up two flights of stairs, but Reito paused, turning his head to the side. His body followed, until he was facing into the wind, swallowing the kinaesthetic glut of emotion. His nose flared, taking in the heady reek of gasoline – it was everywhere, his skin coated in the phantoms of its fluid, burning his eyes, flowing down his throat. He coughed, leaning his hand against the door for support, blinded by tears. _No…_ _please…_ A thread tightened around his throat, choking him as it flared brightly behind his eyelids, parted from itself, severing the connection.

_Infinitely miserable man._

He clutched his chest, struggling to breathe. He hadn't been in time. He sagged, filled with regret, wondering if this, too, was his doing, or if fate was simply too inflexible to be moved. _I'm sorry._ Another of his maidens had fallen; he collected what remained, held it close to his heart, beside her sister. _Yukariko_, _I'm sorry._ He opened the door and ascended the stairs, knowing the same fate may claim them all, but he had to try. _Ten maidens left, all in a row. _The dance was over, but the music… the music wouldn't end.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Natsuki knocked on the door with the hand holding the box, glancing around nervously – if they had been waiting for her at the apartment, they might be waiting for her here as well. The night was peaceful and still; she relaxed her grip on the gun behind her back, though she didn't take her hand away entirely. Shadows scattered as the door opened, and she eyed her contact warily, taking in the disheveled appearance. His khaki hat was pulled low over his face, but did little to mask the weariness he radiated. He stared at her for a second before stepping away from the portal, leaving the door open for her as he walked away.

Yamada grunted as she closed the door behind her. "You're alive."

She smiled with wry amusement. "Yeah. I guess I am." Her contact crossed his arms over his chest, leaning on the wall as he jerked his chin in the direction of his police scanner.

"Lots of people wondering where you are." He paused. "Fujino called the police. They checked the apartment after someone called in the license plate on her car. Stupid to go back there." He waited for a response, peering at the raven haired woman over the rim of his glasses. She shrugged. "You find what you were looking for?"

Natsuki fiddled with the box for a moment before holding it out to the khaki clad man. "Maybe. Maybe not. Smith sent his mechanical dog to fetch me, and we had a talk. He left me this." Yamada opened the box without asking if she'd looked inside; it was obvious she hadn't. He studied the contents without comment, his fingers tracing over a picture of a smiling woman standing in front of a business sign. _Iwasaka Pharmaceutical._ He lifted the picture out of the way, his expression giving Natsuki no hints as he continued to sift through the contents. An ID badge, a bank statement with a check stub stapled to it, a disk.

He handed Natsuki the picture, watching her reactions. "Looks a lot like you."

Natsuki's throat constricted as she re-memorized the face. The woman wore a white lab coat over her rose turtleneck, one hand raised as if in greeting. The camera caught her mid-turn, and her skirt swirled around her legs, blurring the movement. Her glasses had slipped down her nose, her emerald eyes sparkling with some unspoken merriment as she smiled. "Okasan." She blinked a few times to clear away the moisture obscuring her vision, letting the loneliness settle into its accustomed ache below her chest. Her eyes traveled to the sign, wondering what her mother had been doing there.

Her lips thinned. Selling me to the highest bidder, that's what she was doing. Natsuki brushed the back of her arm over her face and slipped the photo into her pocket, trying to control her breathing. "Was there anything else?"

Yamada removed the disk and handed her the box, leaving her to her thoughts as he walked to the living room and slipped the disk into his computer.

She studied the ID card. The woman was the same, but the corporation associated with it wasn't. _Iwasaka?_ Her mother had worked for First District. Natsuki flipped the card over. The activation date stamped just below the magnetic strip was the day after they were forced off the road, the day after District killed her. _'Dr. Kuga tried to sell you to us as a research sample. However, her conspiracy was discovered…'_ What was Smith trying to tell her? _'The emotions you relied on…'_

Natsuki unfolded the bank statement. Her mother had been receiving payment from the pharmaceutical company for several years. She rubbed the middle of her forehead anxiously. The account number matched the number she'd discovered on her stuffed animal; the final deposit an obscenely large amount of money. Her mother was going to start working for another company just before she was purged murdered. _'An unfortunate byproduct… The memory of your mother wasn't strong enough for you to accomplish this. We removed it.'_

District was trying to kill her to keep her from finding something, something about her past. '_You're a lost sheep, and we want to bring you home.'_ She ground her teeth together, crumpled the papers around the ID and stuffed the bundle beside the picture of her mother, joining her contact as he studied the monitor. "Oi, is there a connection between Iwasaka and Searrs?" He sat back from the computer, staring at her.

"Searrs owns Iwasaka Pharmaceutical." He pointed to the computer. "Searrs became a majority stockholder when the company went public, and bought it outright ten years ago."

"Okasan was working for…"

"Iwasaka Pharmaceutical. But her research was for Searrs." The man in khaki pressed a button on the computer, and the Searrs logo appeared on the screen _Searrs, for the Golden Millennium_, fading into a slow pan over a skeletal chassis. The gentle, remembered voice filtered through the speakers, bringing tears to her eyes, but her mind had gone completely blank.

"… Multiple Intelligential Yggdrasil Unit. Structure modified to house a wide array of weapons, from single target combat to anti-tank capabilities. Prototype testing confirms primary weapons disrupt higher order matter, and may even inhibit the flow of energy used to manifest this ability ..."

"Stop it," she screamed and bolted for her motorcycle, the universal symbol for her escape, almost tearing the door off its hinges as she ran.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She shivered, shedding her clothing in a daze; her feet carried her towards the bathroom, stumbling every few steps, and she would pause, head half turned over her shoulder, as if she were listening for something behind her, anticipating the arrival of someone long overdue, and she would wait in this pose for a moment before her body moved her forward again. Her discarded clothing littered the hallway, trailing from senseless fingers before they dropped to the carpet, forgotten necessity of a forgotten time. Her toes touched the chilly bathroom tiles and this almost registered. Her expression shifted from vacant apathy to confusion, to ragged hitching breaths. She slumped to the floor, tears flowing down her cheeks as she sobbed.

_Failed. Failed Natsuki…_

Her rust shaded eyes lingered on the unopened package of straight razors perched on the lip of the sink, her fingers curling and relaxing rhythmically. Her breathing accelerated, face flushed, her lips parting as she leaned towards the package, her face reflecting the ardent yearning of one denied a lover's touch. She paused a second time, her motions disjointed, as if her limbs were unsure which master's wishes to listen to, and her legs drew themselves up to her chest; she trapped them, pressed them painfully close, hiding herself, only the crimson gleam of her eyes visible beyond her sanctuary.

She buried her head in her knees, oblivions to the breathless whimpers vibrating across her lips. No one was here to criticize her for this loss of control. She didn't know where Natsuki was, had no proof either way. Her lone wolf might be hiding anywhere, licking her wounds; she might return if Shizuru were patient. _The scream._ She snarled, her fingers pressing themselves into her calves with murderous strength as she replayed the images from the stolen surveillance feed. The muzzle flash as the man crouching behind the garage door fired, the bullet driving the dark haired woman to the oil slicked pavement as she cried out in pain, her foot tangling in the handlebars of her motorcycle.

Shizuru's mouth twitched, her mind filled with the need for revenge. But she hadn't, had she? She'd waited, remained still, forced the calm to keep her stationary, ignored her responsibility to take care of Natsuki because that's what her precious one would have wanted. _So stubborn._ And in her conflicted desires, she'd allowed the younger girl to be hurt, wounded to the point her recovery was questionable. The older woman hadn't mentioned the precariousness of Natsuki's well being when she awakened, how tenuous her beloved's hold on life had been, how easily it could have shifted from life to death as Shizuru frantically nursed her back to health. It hadn't seemed worthwhile; wouldn't have changed the result, but the honey-haired woman knew just how close the angel's wings had brushed.

And knowing this, knowing her inaction had led to suffering, she was still clinging to the hope everything would be ok if she held very still. She stood, staring at her reflection in the mirror, her lips drawn into a grimace of self-loathing, studying her face with rabid disgust. The calculating part of her, controlling her actions at this moment, dutifully reminded her Natsuki didn't want her help, even if Shizuru knew she could have killed the men before the dark haired woman arrived. She could have been spared the pain, if.. if… _There's no proof on that disk that Natsuki is in District's custody._ She glared at her reflection. _And if she dies? No proof. If you stand there, and do nothing, she will._

She reached over, spun the handle of the shower, stepped into the scalding stream, dipping her hair into the painful heat. Her mind vindictively conjured images of Natsuki bleeding to death, wracked with agony as she pressed her hand to the fatal wound, too weak to rise – the emerald eyes overflowing with despaired betrayal. _You promised. You promised to protect me._ Her head sagged between her shoulders, tears mingling with the water as it sluiced over her body, gurgling accusations as the drain's throat swallowed her indecision.

Her mind weakly countered with the endless deluge of rebuke Natsuki scorned her with in reprisal for previous assistance, the harsh words as she cast aside motive for result – she didn't need Shizuru, didn't need to be rescued, she could handle it on her own, dammit. Rejection hurt so much, tore at the necessity to defend what she loved. _Going to let her die. Doesn't need me. Watch and do nothing. Worthless. Protect what's mine. Completely worthless. Get out of my life!_

She curled her fingers over her ears, trembling so violently she nearly fell, pushed to the limits of her ability to endure. Her chest constricted, unable to hold the sound in any longer; the howl ripped up from the pit of her stomach, scalding her lungs, bruising her throat as it escaped through her clenched teeth, continuing until she was too exhausted to cry. She pressed her face into the wall, gasping for breath, calming by degrees – only the furnace of her fury remained. In the end, it didn't matter: if Natsuki was in danger and she did nothing, she would have failed her beloved again; if Natsuki wasn't in danger, she would still fulfill her promise. If she fell in the attempt, it was no matter – Natsuki was _all mine_ her life.

Remaining still gained her nothing, and she needed no preparation other than consensus between emotion and logic; the other information on the disk had been unimportant: names, faces, a handful of locations. She'd already gotten what she needed, used the base materials Smith provided to find blueprints, building layouts, personnel rotation. She wasn't interested in the details, but she'd memorized them just the same. _A single grain of rice…_

She smiled, laughing quietly as she rinsed her thoughts away, one at a time _forgive me_. She turned off the shower, padding down the hallway, naked and dripping, to her bedroom. She knelt, seiza style, in front of her closet, opening the door with graceful economy, her fingers exploring the shadows until she felt the fabric of her kimono. She traced the outlines of the garment, a shade darker than the one ruined in the Carnival – deep burgundy, the color of her eyes, ritually folding the robe over her body. She watched her silhouette as she dressed, her fingers fastening the obi around her waist. _Natsuki, hang in there for me. I'll be there soon._

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The man sat up as a figure separated itself from the night, walking towards the truck. He nudged his partner awake and together the opened their doors, surrounding the woman as she lowered her head submissively. This was the girl they'd been sent to observe, a HiME, but he hadn't been told anything else. One of the men searched her for weapons, surprised there was no difference in texture as his hands slid along her sides – she wasn't wearing anything underneath the kimono. His breath caught, his hands lingering under her arms, thinking she was very beautiful. Shizuru laughed and he removed his touch guiltily, grabbing her arms and escorting her behind the truck.

She didn't speak, not once, and it was creeping them out. The man holding her arms assisted her as she leapt lightly into the back of their vehicle. She was cloaked in an aura of benevolent placidity, majestic and intimidating; neither was quite bold enough to shove her forward. It would be disrespectful. They watched her lower herself, resting her body on her heels. She folded her hands in her lap and closed her eyes, waiting, and both men briefly entertained the idea the girl was being delivered to her execution, and she accepted this as inevitable. She wouldn't try to escape, she was resigned to her fate, whatever it may be. They shrugged, almost in unison, and returned to the cab of the truck.

Shizuru let the hum of their conversation lull her as the truck bounced over the rough road leading to the military installation. They were getting close, the far off twinkle had grown into discernable clusters of light, encompassing the parameter in a ring of illumination. She lifted her thumb to her mouth, bit down until blood splashed over her tongue. _Come to me one more time. _She spat the blood through the gap in the canvas covering the bed of the truck, holding her thumb out in front of her, fingers curled, watching the droplets splatter as they rolled down her wrist. _One more time._ She offered herself as the symbolic sacrifice for her summons. It was a means to an end; there was no guarantee it would be answered, and she tensed, held rigid until the sibilant presence embraced her, whispered its compliance.

The truck shuddered as the red blade slashed through the rear axle, sparks igniting between the tires as the weapon's motion continued, effectively cutting the vehicle in half. The men screamed as both halves separated from one another with a final earsplitting squeal, each traveling at different speeds as they toppled to the ground. Shizuru walked through the litter of twisted metal, following the heat of their terror, shifting the naginata in her grip. She stood over the man who'd let his hands roam over her body, smiling to herself.

"Kiyohime."


	11. Chapter 11 : The Depths

**A/N: **Another really long chapter – yeah, I've been working hard, _Ripley's _believe it or not. A process of birth, a precursor to the crescendo. Contact – the moment when everything happens. So many new stories and updates to inspire me! So many kind words to coddle me along. When I'm banging my head on the keyboard, cursing the fickle muse, it's the difference between giving up and going on. _Bows._ Thank you.

**Silent Ee:** Alice is choking on the pill. Never trust a caterpillar; something that can't pick a form generally gives poor advice.

**Suikun: **Coins are circular – flip, spin, drop the dime. Fortune often reverses itself. There was a _lot_ of information in Reito's introduction. You were right on many fronts. Hopefully this chapter alleviates some of the consternation. I try to keep continuity in each chapter as it progresses, but 9-10 were mostly the same creature. I just had to separate them for fighting.

**Naked Fish: **I'm digging my version of Reito. It was a death ritual, I'm glad that conveyed.

**Johnny:** 'In the name of love… once more in the name of loveeeee.' Couldn't resist.

**B14ck-r053:** Tate did change, mostly because I couldn't get a handle on him. He's grown since, and is now Sergey Jr. _Wanker._ Mai is like Bloody Mary. Hmmm. _Takes that idea and runs._ Thank you for the correction. I like long reviews!

**Stickytofu:** Pain is the absence of love. Love is the worship of pain. Deliverance is at hand.

**Kiltmandu: **Ahh, the muse amused more this chapter, lent credence to delivered condolence. _Offers a rose._ Sweetness knows no bounds, nor can gratitude adequately convey my appreciation.

**Interstate405:** Eeeee! Goosebumps. Kawaii! The kimono is the representation of all that Shizuru descended from – a line of noble Samurai. Robe, check. Naginata, check. Ok, that about covers it – send in the fodder.

**EA Simpson:** Angst without outlet is a dangerous thing. Don't whine. Kill. Much more productive. Nao still doesn't know who Blond Guy is. Shhhh.

**Aldia: **She does want to die – she has no reason to live. Worry not. It will all work out in the end. Reito is the good guy. Tate is the bad guy. Like Suikun said, I love reversal of fortune. 12 jewels shining in the palm of his hand, and he and his sister. But is Mikoto a jewel? One wonders.

**Shigan:** _Blushes._ Please forgive the email… I wasn't asking for greater applause… I was half asleep.

**UltraMarine, Jordan.D, fan-rei, xSojix:** I loved the return of the Dark Side as well. Kill the men! Kill the elves! Save the gold for ourselves! Er... never mind. _Laughs._ Thanks for enjoying it… it still means the world to me that everyone's gotten so wrapped up in our story!

This chapter deals with the other side of the coin, and the machinations that move the machine. It helps to solve the paradox, removing suspicions by one. It brings Natsuki full circle as she embraces the past she never knew, and exposes the nature of the beast. Judge not, lest ye be smacked upside the head with your own stone. "The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit… The rest is silence." Enjoy.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Chapter 11**

Rain fell against the glass, casting tattered shade across the mahogany desk, the man who sat behind it, the door, the wall. A wholly different perspective from which to view the world – no mercy, no pity, no remorse – only motion, the ceaseless shift of creatures who knew if their bodies should rest, even for a moment, that moment would be their last. It lent an aquatic atmosphere, painted eerily depthless shadows, as if each object had silhouette but no substance. The gloom reshaped Smith's face as he turned toward his subordinate, transferring his gaze from fluid restlessness to congealed discomfort.

Stiff, hands unmoving at his sides, the man's eyes returned from a restless circuit of the room to the Director's ice blue gaze. He shivered; were this the ocean housed within steel, and brick and glass, Smith was a shark whose eyes never left his prey.

"Report."

"As you anticipated, subject Okuzaki Akira broke into the Coroner's Office and removed the designated files. She conferred with Sagisawa Youko, the school nurse, and now knows the documents were tampered with. I'm sure she will draw the logical conclusions.

"Flight records confirm subject Kanzaki Reito arrived in Fuuka at five forty seven via private jet the day before. He also spoke with Sagisawa, and was most likely informed subjects Tokiha, Minagi and Minakata died in the fire. Okuzaki returned to her dormitory, and Kanzaki followed. Should we bring him in?"

So. The Black Prince had returned to claim his throne two days ahead of schedule. Most fortuitous – he could collect the HiMEs under his wings, saving Searrs the effort. Smith imagined an assembly of ebony birds, jostling for position on the sorrow laden boughs of a willow tree. _A murder of crows. How fitting._

Smith weighed the action, finally shaking his head. "No. Give him the time to accomplish our task for us. His search for his sister will bring him here." The subordinate nodded and continued his report.

"The nurse placed a long distance call to the US. Wiretaps verify it was to subject Sugiura Midori. Sugiura purchased a one-way ticket to Fuuka thirty minutes later. She will be touching down in fifteen minutes. We've assigned surveillance to continue observation of her movements."

The man behind the desk nodded his head in approval. "Continue."

"District surrounded Yuuki's residence at seven thirty this morning, retaining her mother as a hostage." He frowned. His job was threat assessment - to alert those who made decisions to negative repercussions, and advise methods of damage control, but Smith rarely listened to his advice. The flaxen man's motives were always obscure, hidden under layers of misdirection. The subordinate studied the man who sat in front of him, the man who most of Searrs' employees believed had murdered the previous director, and stepped cautiously – he wanted no part of Smith's undivided attention. It was seriously career limiting.

The shark's smile widened as his subordinate cleared his throat. "Recommendations?"

"Yes sir. Yuuki is no longer a viable target; she's been compromised. Her continued involvement threatens our acquisition of Kuga and Fujino. Recommend subject Yuuki Nao be scheduled for termination."

_How short sighted people are._ That was why they failed to attain the Golden Era the first time, why the Carnival itself had burned down around the Obsidian Lord's feet, burying him under the ashes of overreaching ambition. Yes, the HiMEs were weapons, but they weren't simply tools to be guided towards a costly goal. "Our objective demands genetically diverse samples to maintain homeostasis. Cloning has proven unreliable. We need them alive."

Smith watched the man war with conflicting common sense – to acquiesce, or voice his disagreement and likely become an instructive example to his replacement. Self-preservation won, as usual. "Yes sir."

"Excellent. The others?"

"Subject Kikukawa Yukino has thus far not been approached by District."

Smith raised his hand to halt the recitation. "Make sure District is made aware of Suzushiro's political involvement. They will likely use more direct methods of securing the HiMEs, once they recover from their current… setback. I have no intention of allowing them time to recoup."

His second in command bowed, accepting this duty. "Subject Sanada Yukariko was informed of her husband's continued involvement with District – we made sure she overheard the phone conversation confirming his plans to hand her over to them." He shifted his weight between his feet before continuing. No one wants to be the bearer of bad news. "She died in a fire late last evening."

"Oh?" Those ice blue eyes never left his face, and he started sweating.

"Yes, sir. She set herself on fire in the bathtub, after filling it with gasoline."

_So. Tokiha got her revenge second hand._ Truth had tipped the scales, and internal strain had finally overwhelmed the former nun's desire to live, her desire to abstain from sin. '_God talks to me in my dreams; he talks to me every day.'_ An unfortunate turn of events, but her ability to disconnect fantasy from persecution had steadily declined since the baby's birth. "By these acts am I purged." Smith folded his hands in front of his mouth, tapping his lip lightly. "Did we recover the body?"

The subordinate nodded once, quite forcefully, as if his handling of the situation after the fact could erase earlier failures. "Sanada's body was collected before District could respond. There was no sign of husband or child. We believe they're on the run to a District safe house."

"I see. Was there enough tissue left to take a viable sample?"

"Yes, sir."

The director grunted in irritation. "Find them. Dispose of District's dog, and bring in the child." No doubt Ishigami would use the child to barter for safe passage, and, if trapped, murder it for spite, but what they could no longer get from the mother might still be attainable though other means. "And the princess?"

"Kuga took possession of the vehicle and met with her contact. Remote monitoring of the computer shows the disk was accessed. Kuga left the premises five minutes later. Analysis of her behavior patterns suggests extreme emotional distress – we assume she is in the process of assimilating the provided information."

Smith smiled and leaned back in his chair. _It won't be long now._ The man was still standing in front of him, and Smith raised an eyebrow. "About Fujino…"

"Yes? What about her?"

"Sir, do you really think it was safe to goad her onto the offensive?" He seemed flustered, as if he were wondering himself why he was bringing this up, but obviously this round, self-preservation came in second place. "It is a good strategy to weaken the opponent. But, is it safe – if we want them alive? Natsu –

"Kuga-sama will follow Fujino-sama on her vendetta, and we are providing assistance. The potential gains outweigh the risks." Smith's tone was harsh; he despised explaining himself, especially to those who had no hope of comprehending the subtle shifts, the gradient weighing process he based his decisions upon. The princess would learn things from the experience; things she didn't want to understand, didn't want to recognize about herself, and her partner. The destruction Fujino would rain down on District, the ensuing chaos would be a footnote in comparison.

"But… if they die…"

"This discussion is over. Inform me once we have Yukariko-san's daughter in custody." His subordinate bowed, exiting as quietly as he'd entered, and the shark turned back to the window, resuming his meditations. He watched the raindrops patter against the thin film separating the ocean within from the ocean without. _Yet in these acts myself almost despising; happily I think on thee… _Whatever karma he earned by these atrocities, forcing development through trial, would be borne. They needed the pair quite badly; they needed Natsuki whole.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She became aware of her surroundings by degrees, shading her face from the stabbing pain as the setting sun shone directly into her eyes. Where her body had taken her, what events had led to standing in this spot, she had no idea. She gathered the bangs out of her face as they tickled her, dancing on the brine scented air, and tucked them behind her ears. Shifting her foot, she knocked her helmet over to spin in a lazy half circle in the dirt. Her eyes dropped, following the sound, her fingers clenching reflexively as they crumpled the paper holding a small bouquet.

Why would she bring herself here? _Okaasan._ She studied the flowers clutched ever so tightly in her trembling hand. _Her favorite flower. Amaryllis belladonna._ The delicate stamens cast wavering shadows in the dying light as she studied the pale, sloping petals, her fingers relaxed. She traced the contours of the creamy blossom, from base to outward curl, feeling the texture of life below her fingertip – cool, evocative, soothing – and wrapped her hand around them, her mouth twisting. This time, there was no one to stop her, no one to mollify or direct her, and her fury overflowed, ripping the flower from its stem.

"Liar!" The maimed flower flew over the railing. _More. More!_ She tore the entire arrangement apart, flinging them over the edge of the cliff. The disembodied petals flowed from her fingers, silent as pain, silent as her breaking heart. She released the remains, her anger hunkering down to await another target, and sank to her knees. _It's all right. Everything in my life has been a lie; why should this be any different?_ _I'll be fine. I AM fine. I just need to… need…_ Her shoulders hunched suddenly as she retched, divesting herself of what little remained in her system. She gasped between convulsions, trying to catch her breath, scooting away a few inches and falling on her side when the nausea passed.

Natsuki lay on the shoulder of the road, the road that claimed her mother's life, at the spot, the terminus, the end; she closed her eyes against the memories. Loss, pain, hatred. Air, water, fire. _My whole life…_ Her arms wrapped around her helmet, pulling it into her chest, cradling it as she walked the razor's edge. She'd always been told her mother worked for First. She tried to think back, beyond the veneer of a child's perceptions. Her mother had friends in District, people who visited her in the hospital after the accident. _Sakomizu-sensei._ And yet her mother had been afraid, had restrained Natsuki, pulled her back into her arms whenever the dark-suited men came to the lab. It hadn't meant anything to her when she was young, but now…

Her mother had forbidden her to open the door the night the dark suits came to claim them, held Natsuki tightly as they dashed between house and car. And then the frantic drive. Why? Why had her mother been running from District? First had discovered she was working for Searrs, playing both sides of the fence. _A mole?_ It was possible. So they ran to escape, through the growling darkness and the luminous headlights grew larger, rounder, forcing them through the railing and into the air – suspension, weightlessness, screams, whimpers, the deafening crack of the windshield as her mother fell into it, splashing blood across the glass.

Her mother died four hours later, unconscious and alone. Her fingers had been so cold and frail. So very cold. Hands led her away from the bedside, escorting her as she stumbled numbly through the antiseptic hallways. _I'm sorry, Natsuki-chan._ His face had been twisted with sadness, but a guarded necessity dulled the brightness under the wild curls atop his head. Kaiji had been the last person to exit the room, his hand had pressed the call button, summoning the nurses who tried to extend her mother's life. She shivered, her teeth chattering behind stuttering breaths. _He killed her, made sure okaasan never emerged from the watery depths._

Had Searrs been there as well, trying to secure their investment? In her mind, the nine year old girl's head turned, following a line of movement, the dull sounds of the elevator doors as they closed, emerald meeting ice blue a second before the crack disappeared. Yes. He'd come, but arrived too late effect the outcome. _Smith._ Why hadn't he taken her with him? It was what her mother wanted, to protect her from District. The final payment Searrs had entrusted to Saeko hadn't been Natsuki's price, but money to break away from District's control, to facilitate a new life at a distance from the coming carnage.

Smith had pulled aside the curtain, revealing the truth choked by deception. "Liar! Liar!" The sobs finally came, washing away unspoken need, leaving no place to hide. _Okaasan._ Her mother hadn't betrayed her, but given up life her life in exchange. Sakomizu perpetuated First's deceit, carefully crafting the balance she'd lived by, removed her only protector, used her, camouflaging his actions with concern, fostering the illusion she was in control. _Hate you. Hate you all!_ She couldn't muster the will to rise, couldn't be bothered to turn her face away from the stench of despoiled innocence. _Just like before, when Nao drove me off the road._

_I have nothing left. _She curled into a ball, around her helmet. _No one left._ Compelling, but not the entire truth; she thought of rejected comfort. _The adoring smile, the warmest arms, my hope, my companion._ There was one person. _The perfection of her lips as we touched, my strawberry-hazel savior._ Of herself, that garden she bitterly maintained, little survived. No pride, no ambition, _what am I? _nothing left to learn, no purpose beyond yearned reassurance. _I'm alone._ "Shizu…ru." Her voice was hoarse, laden with anguish, bruised and battered; it tethered her to the reality of her situation, and dismay crept into her thoughts.

The pattern of events was well established. _'If they can't get what they want, the next logical step…'_ The raven haired girl sat up, wiping the moisture from her cheeks with the back of her hand. Surely District wouldn't be that stupid, knew Shizuru was too difficult a target, would be dangerous to wrestle into submission. Yet the older woman's moods were fragile, often dependent on factors she grudgingly admitted hinged more on Natsuki's actions then her own. Natsuki knew it took every ounce of self-control for her to sustain the smiles, to manufacture serenity from will alone. _She hurts herself for me; I've always come first._ Natsuki scrambled to her feet, filled with fear. _'I think you, especially, should hurry.'_

"Dammit, Shizuru!" If something happened, it would be her fault, for shoving affection as far away as possible, for unfailingly upholding the separation, harshly denying any responsibility for the grieving hush, the muffled tears Shizuru wept when she thought Natsuki couldn't hear. _Running away, that's all I do._ Not this time. Shizuru was all she had left, and this time, she ran towards the outstretched arms, hoping it wasn't too late. _Please… don't leave me behind._

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Takumi looked up as Akira flew through the door, panting raggedly. She slammed the door behind her, her book bag dropping from senseless fingers as she locked the door. She trembled violently, curling her fingers in her hair as she lifted her arms, shielding her face, and he stood, knocking the chair over in his haste. "Akira-kun?" There was something terribly wrong. Her arms lowered as she tracked his movements. Completely frozen, he watched her pupils contract, encompassing the whole of his reflection in their ebony noose, and he clutched his chest as the echoes of discomfort consumed him.

He staggered into her arms as she moved forward to catch him, her eyes searching his face for some semblance of herself beyond the urge, and finding none, she pressed forward, claiming his mouth with her own. The pain in his chest intensified, and he struggled to breathe. She was holding him too tightly, too ardent in her affection and he went limp in her arms. This wasn't passion, she was being driven. And although the urgency was expected, they'd worked around these attacks many times, this was much more acute; the torment intensified as it ate them alive.

He closed his eyes, submitting to her needs, wrapped his arms around her, whispering words of acceptance. The hug relaxed, allowing him escape, if he chose to take it, but he remained in place, smiling at her lovingly.

"Takumi." _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._ Her voice limped from her throat, tears spilling across her lashes, leaving pale streaks across her cheeks.

He wiped them away gently as he cradled her in his arms. _Don't apologize. I love you._ He lost himself, drowning in the burgundy-shaded desire, lifted his arms as she kissed him softly, allowed her to pull his shirt over his head. Her breath quickened as she guided them to the bed, falling on top of him in a pleasant weight. He buried his face in her hair, caressing her back, but she'd stopped moving, as immobile as he'd been when she first entered the room. Lips twitched as something beyond the door knocked and her muscles bunched, preparing to spring into feral motion.

"Go away!" Takumi flinched from the depth of his mate's wrath, unsure what to do.

"Okuzaki-kun, open the door. We have things to discuss." Past the politeness, he sensed the underlying command; a quality he knew the speaker tried to smooth by his choice of words, and the unchallenging deportment Reito worked to so hard to maintain. He recognized the voice almost instantly; the master of those honeyed tones was difficult to forget.

The silence stretched. "Okuzaki-kun, you are more my creature than your own right now. Let me help you, and you can help me in return." Takumi's eyes were large and frightened, his face turning between the door and Akira as she straddled him protectively. His eyebrows dipped in concern, the hands encircling her slipped from back to sides, his thumbs restlessly caressing her stomach, and she shivered. It wasn't a conscious thing – he wasn't aware of moving his hands, it was a nervous habit, another of the countless reasons why Akira loved him.

"Get away from here! What do you want with Takumi? You can't have him! And I'll… I'll kill you if you try to take him away." Akira swept her hair back with one hand, flicked an elastic band from her wrist into her hand, and contained it safely behind her back. The uniform was too constrictive; it hampered her movements. She struggled out of the jacket and undershirt, tossed them aside, rolled off the bed, landing soundlessly on the balls of her feet as she tore her pants off and searched for more appropriate attire.

The wood surrounding the lock splintered, and she lifted her hand to shield her face, thinking the door would likewise be pulverized under the Dark Lord's direction, but it didn't. It opened lazily, bumping into the wall behind it with hardly a sound. The figure standing in the doorway was just as striking as he always was, carried the aura of unruffled charisma she remembered so well.

"Akira-kun, you are as lovely today as the day we met." The dark haired boy smiled pleasantly, letting her know with the downward tilt of his head he approved of her method of greeting, and she blushed, looking down at herself, clothed only in panties and the binding about her breasts. The stain in her cheeks spread over her head, across her neck. She was sure, at that moment, even her hair was a reddish hue. Her arms crossed in front of her chest, but her feet were already positioning themselves for her attack, her weight distributed evenly between her feet as she lowered her center of gravity.

Reito smiled, moved by some inner amusement as he watched her eyes narrow, gracefully sidestepping her attack as she rushed forward, reaching to close the door with unhurried ease when she ducked behind him. "How pathetic. Summon your Element if you want to stop me. If it's for the sake of the one you love, you'll have to do better than this." He knocked aside her strikes, and she burned where their skin touched, gasping with surprise. She'd never met an opponent who moved faster that she. He was mocking her.

"I don't need it," she snarled, and the demon's smile widened; he lifted his shoulder dismissing her for the nuisance she was.

"Then you should do the best at whatever you can do, if you believe you can stop me." Akira roared with frustrated ire, trying to sweep his feet out from under him, to slip her fingers into the nerve centers she knew would leave him prone, the reason behind her actions fading away into the background. He lifted an eyebrow, slipping away from her like silk, drawn between one's fingers, settling a few feet away. She was breathing hard, overwhelmed with fatigue. It was too taxing, trying to bring him down and stave off her own reactions to his presence. She glanced at Takumi, who'd wrapped himself in the sheet and huddled on the edge of the bed, watching this interchange anxiously.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes to focus her senses. She could see Kanzaki for what he'd become, see the truth hidden by layers of illusion, and it terrified her. She was greater than her cowardice, grasped the moment of stillness and held it tightly, dismissing the rest for future introspection. She resumed her stance, danced around the blocks, concentrating on the position his body would take the second after he evaded her. He was untouchable, and frustration digested her resolve.

Akira wound up in his arms; he trapped her wrists behind her. He could smell her fear as she looked up into his perfect, smiling face, abhorrence couched in lust, and he laughed softly as she stood on her tiptoes, lifting her lips closer to his. The music swelled in his ears, crushed him in waves of sorrow, futility. _Why are all HiMEs so unwilling to compromise?_ He didn't want to hurt her, he didn't want to hurt any of them, so broken spirited and lamed; he'd marred the crystal, and its flaw ran deep, deeper than his compassion could bend. _So._ He would be cruel and heartless, divide the fault between memory and blood as she had done, his sister _Mashiro_, and hope there was enough left to mend.

"Reito-san!" Takumi's voice filtered through the muddy daze, confusing her. Her heart was beating rapidly, like a bird awaiting the closing blow, waiting for the cat to tire of its sport. She felt faint, lighter than she should be, whimpering unhappily as fingers loosened the fabric wrapped around her chest. Her protection slipped from his fingers unremarked, draped over her feet, tickling her as fell. She couldn't tell if Reito was looking at her breasts or her eyes.

"Why…" It was too difficult to think, too painful to breathe. She wanted to surrender to the golden-eyed god holding her in his arms. Tears slid down her face as she relaxed, letting him pull her closer; his face loomed near, sampling her breath _Takumi!_, raked her desire across the coals, warming her in its reddish glow. _Please… don't…_

The wound was bitter, laced with longing and regret. The golden-eyed god uttered a sound of dark humored displeasure, pushing her away and she staggered, trying to keep her footing. She trembled, pressing her palm against her forehead. Her head hurt.

"You think I desire you? Having your body means nothing to me; you aren't the one I want." He turned his back on her, listened to the sound of her suffering in silence. No emotion disturbed the gloom obscuring his face from view.

"Get out." Akira covered her breasts with one arm, swaying unsteadily as the force of her emotions warred between themselves – to submit, to slay, punishing herself bitterly for her prostration, and found no peace between them. She was giddy with the need to seek surcease from this ennui, one way or the other.

"No. If you want to make me leave, drive me out, or I'll bind you again – make you a puppet to do my will."

Her chest rose and fell with effort; she took a step forward, faltering and nearly collapsed to the floor. "Akira-kun!" Takumi's voice held panic. He rushed to her side, wrapping the sheet around her shoulders as she shuddered. She couldn't hear anything anymore, her eyes rolling up as she slumped in her beloved's arms, unaware of the pain on his face as he grabbed his chest with one hand, wiping away the blood slowly tricking from her nose with the other. Each drop paused, coalescing on her chin in a ponderous moment of unity before dripping between her knees.

Reito whispered softly. "You can't win, Okuzaki-kun; skill alone isn't enough. You need your birthright. The mind disapproves, but the blood – the blood always remembers."

She was too tired to fight any longer. _You monster. _She raised her hands in front of her face, the first fingers raised on each, cupping the lower two in the palm held above. "On." Her Element spun in the air before her face and she grasped it tightly. The effect was immediate and overwhelming. She sighed, feeling the repressive cacophony slip away from her in an almost sexual release. It was so surprising she almost dropped the blade; she stared at it wonderingly. _It's gone._ She turned to look at Takumi, noticing his ashen pall, but he was smiling up at her, sharing her relief. His pain was gone as well.

The ninj-ette scowled angrily at the dark figure's back as she rose, tying the bedclothes under her arms to hold it in place. "You." The tone was dark and unforgiving. The sheet whispered as she straddled his back, wrapping her arm around his throat before he could react, wrenched his chin to one side, exposing his neck to her blade, pressed it firmly to the pulse with unwavering fingers.

Reito smiled pleasantly, lifting his hands in defeat. Her body no longer reacted to tactile contact, and she marveled anew as his warm, melodic voice filled the spaces between the silence. "How wonderful. Will you help me now, Akira-kun? I place myself at the tenderness of your mercy." The congenial words were a balm to her discontent, and she couldn't tell which was more familiar – Reito of the rose, or demon who'd bathed itself in their tears. In the end, it seemed silly to stay in this position, staring down into his boyish, handsome face with a knife at his throat, and she released him, returning to her position in front of Takumi.

"Why are you here?"

"I need your help; I need all the HiME's help, those that are left." The dark haired man paused, bowing slightly to Takumi. "Forgive my intrusion, but Mai-san and Mikoto need us to free them _from their_ _torment_."

"Onee-chan isn't..." Takumi glanced at Reito hopefully, and his smile reassured the unspoken question.

"I had no idea she was supposed to be dead, or I'd have come back sooner."

"What do you need our help with, Kanzaki-sempai? You haven't answered my question." She crossed her arms, unconvinced of his altruistic motives.

"I've come to finish what my sister began three hundred years ago. It's time to let hatred rest, to put an end to this ancient grudge."

Akira scoffed, frowned in thought. "Your sister." _Mikoto couldn't possibly be that old._

"Ee. Mashiro, the memories my sister left behind in Fumi-san's Child when she won the last Carnival, refusing to fulfill her role as Princess Suishou. "

Takumi blinked in surprise, not really understanding what the two of them were discussing. His mate seemed as confused as he felt, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, lending her what support he could.

"Eeto, isn't Mikoto your sister? A HiME?"

Reito dropped his eyes, bemused. "Mikoto-chan's part of my bloodline, the essence Mashiro sacrificed to fragment her soul, in hopes of changing fate. Mikoto isn't a HiME. She never was."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Shizuru!" The apartments were dark, devoid of a sense of habitation, and panic closed her throat. She braked, kicking the stand down before the back tire finished spinning, and jogged to the front door, trying the handle. _Unlocked, shit._ None of the windows were broken, the grass untrampled by boots. If First had been here, they were using greater caution than she would have credited them with. Natsuki crouched on the porch, pushing her way through the entrance a bit at a time. Her heart was pounding as she eased one of her guns into her palm, peeking around the corner, into the living room.

A figure reclined on the couch, reading a book, and though Natsuki knew it was female, she couldn't tell anything beyond this. Her senses confirmed no one else was in the dorm, and she stood, thumbing the safety off as she padded closer to the couch. "Shizuru?"

The redhead sat up, debated smiling in greeting and decided against it. Not like Natsuki would appreciate the gesture anyway. She yawned and stretched. "Sorry to disappoint, but you're late. I've been waiting here for hours."

Natsuki scowled sourly. "Where is Shizuru?"

Nao lifted her shoulder as she looked at the computer screen. "As if I would know. Besides, you're the one that left. If you want to keep track of her, you shouldn't keep running away… should you."

The all-knowing smirk surfaced at last, tugging up one side of her mouth as her glance returned to Natsuki's face. The play of emotions was enjoyment without compare, though she was surprised Natsuki lowered her defenses, the emerald eyes over-bright. "I know that."

"Oh, I see."

Laughter focused her attention, and Natsuki leveled the gun at the grinning redhead, straightened her back, pulling back the hammer. "Answer. Where is Shizuru?"

"You really are too stupid to exist. I don't know what she sees in you." The bullet nicked her ear in passing, burying itself in the floor behind the couch. Her hand lifted to brush away the tickling sensation, before she once again indicated Natsuki should pay greater heed to her surroundings. "An interesting scene, but even I got bored, watching you get shot over and over again."

The dark haired girl's eyes narrowed as she watched herself topple from her motorcycle, clutch her left arm and rock from side to side, wondering where Nao had gotten this particular recording. "Glad I can entertain you."

"Oh, it gets better. It's looped, and I had the sound off." The lazy, cat-like smile deepened, her fingers pressing a button on the keyboard, and the apartment was filled with the deafening creak of leather as the woman lifted her leg across the frame, the sound of the bullet's impact as it passed through her body, her agonized scream as the figure on the screen landed on her left side, trailing off into subdued whimpers as she cradled her arm. This cycle repeated twice before Natsuki couldn't stand it any more and muted the volume.

Her ears rang as she pondered what Nao hoped to achieve by showing this to Shizuru. "Why did you do this?"

"Ah? This isn't my disk." _So incredibly dense. _Nao lifted the empty box and tossed it at the dark haired girl, disgusted. It was easier to lead the water to the horse. She sighed, making a game out of guessing how far along the path to understanding the idiot woman was by reading her body language and facial tics. A scowl – yes yes, it was one of the bad guys who left the disk. Eyebrows lowering – maybe it was District? A frown – no, that made no sense. Exasperation – what the hell does this have to do with where Shizuru is anyway?

Nao rolled her eyes. "I wonder what your keeper was thinking? Maybe she was picking out the best parts to share. Mmm. Probably not. I'm sure she realized you weren't coming back at all."

Natsuki glared at the Cheshire smile. _I went to my apartment and didn't return._ Shizuru hadn't answered the phone because she was already gone. Smith had left all the hints her friend needed to come to one possible reason for this absence. She grabbed the redhead's hand and dragged her to the motorcycle. "Get on," she ordered, stuffing her helmet over her head and started the engine. She cursed under her breath; in her mind's eye, she watched the honey-haired woman turn her back on her and walk away. _Why didn't you take me with you?_ Shizuru hadn't been content to wait, she'd left Natsuki behind after all.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_So much red._ Blood splashed the walls of the canting guard tower; the upper half of a soldier who'd manned this post dangled from the strap of his rifle, as if he'd tried to escape while the building buckled around him. The lower half was several feet below. Natsuki backed away from littered remains, trying not to put the pieces into recognizable patterns, not to match limbs with bodies by the color of their clothing. Her foot lost traction and she screamed; the world tilted, jarring her as she landed on her back in a puddle. Not daring to check, she hoped it was oil. She didn't think she could handle being covered in anything else.

This one was worse than the last; the electricity was still humming merrily away, and the sodium lights brought the substantiation of violence into sharp, unrepentant clarity. A_fter so many bodies, I'm beginning not to care._ The first base had been nothing but a smoldering ruin, the buildings reduced to glowing coals, and she and Nao had followed the winding trail of crushed, smoking vehicles to a second installation. She wasn't certain if they'd been fleeing or hunting. There was no one alive to ask.

Another explosion rippled through the air, blowing heat across her face as she crawled to her feet. Light flickered, plunging the buildings into darkness, and she sighed with relief, blinked to adjust her eyes – the carnage was easier to endure in monochrome, even if the stench continuously provoked her stomach into an uneasy roll. A sound caught her attention and she twisted her torso, belatedly realizing the attacker must be behind her. Metal flashed in the moonlight and she grabbed the man's arm as the knife buried itself in her side.

Something whizzed over her shoulder and Natsuki staggered awkwardly as the soldier slumped into her. She squinted, peering through the buildings, following the line of fire; there was a man on the hill opposite her position, cocking his sniper rifle in preparation for a second shot. She crouched, pushing the body aside as she grabbed the knife, slipped her finger through the finger-guard and flipped it snugly into her palm.

Others were running around now, or maybe they'd been running around all along, and she hadn't noticed. The sniper seemed content to bide his time; she followed his aim by the light bouncing off his scope, blackened as it was, and he was pointing his portable cannon towards the opposite end of the enclosure. Nao was nowhere in sight, having wandered off, probably about the time she realized there were real, live soldiers mixed up with the dead ones. _Bitch._ Clutching her wounded side, she cautiously followed the flow of excitement – maddened rats in a maze going after a common goal.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shizuru sidestepped the spray of metal, slipping the naginata over her shoulders as she lowered herself in a graceful ballet; she flicked her wrist, releasing the blade from its constraint, swept the haft forward swiftly, severing both man and mounted machine gun from the jeep bearing down on her. The blade retracted as she repositioned her feet, adjusting the angle to slice through the vehicle itself. Sparks rose in twin fountains on either side, friction burning her legs as she nimbly hopped away from the wreckage and ducked below another arc of bullets.

She drank the air in deep, wrenching gasps. Everything hurt, not that this was of any real concern to her. Each new discomfort, each laceration and bruise could be ignored, but they deteriorated her ability little by little, opposing her with exhaustion.

These men didn't know where Natsuki was, though they'd responded to a description of her likeness, not the pawns, but the powers behind them had, before she tore them limb from limb. It was possible District wasn't involved with the disappearance. If so, she would have wasted an evening's search, yet part of her insisted she continue reaping as they'd sown, keep working her way up the food chain. _Hurt for hurts, suffer for suffering, as is my right, by duty, by privilege._ These men were the enemy, they'd taken something from her, something precious – the peace her judgment bought. They'd caused Natsuki pain, driven her from the safety of Shizuru's arms, led to her absence. It was only natural to enforce retribution.

The perfection of this certainty infused her, dispelling lingering doubts _anything for Natsuki_. She tilted her head, smiling kindly at the soldier before she hacked him down, removing his head from his shoulders. She crushed the dismembered skull as she continued through the hangar, moving on to the next target. It was enough; she wouldn't allow herself to waver, she could rest when she was done.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Natsuki ducked around the side of the building, firing a few warning shots to discourage the men huddled in the doorway from pursuing the advantage. Flames illuminated their frightened faces as the wall behind them topped, burying them under the beams. Something large reared up behind this newly fashioned opening, lowered a portion of its heads and the raven-haired woman retreated, overwhelmed with awe. Her glance darted between the interior of the building, taking in the figure dressed in a kimono, and the threatening visage blocking the doorway.

"Kiyohime!" Natsuki covered her mouth as soon as the words were spoken, not wanting the Child's notice, but the damage was done. A sinuous hiss filled her ears as she backpedaled, staring into her own terrified face as it reflected from the sinister yellow orbs descending towards her. "Wait…" She held up her hand and the creature paused, blinking seven pairs of eyes as they focused on her, warning her with their posture to proceed no further; a warning she heeded, watching mutely as the red robed figure whipped her blade around the rotors of the helicopter trying to escape, dragging it back to earth with an ear splitting howl of grinding metal. The helicopter shuddered, plowing deep furrows into the dirt as the propeller turned the craft in a circle, and exploded.

Shizuru retracted her Element and stood still, almost in the same position as her Child. She turned towards the door, her shoulders drooping in exhausted relief as she smiled, bathed in the corona of the fires erupting around her. "Natsuki?" She held out her arms, tentatively taking a few steps towards the door, oblivious of anything else around her. Kiyohime bared its fangs as it sank into the floor – one minute the monolith barred her way, and in the next blink was gone.

Natsuki rushed forward, wanting to embrace her, registering little details as they revealed themselves – the kimono draped loosely around her frame, falling off one shoulder, and missing large patches of fabric where gaping cuts shown through. She was battered and bleeding, hair hanging limply in front of Shizuru's face, matted with dirt and sweat and other fluids she chose not to recognize. But her friend was alive, she was here, in one piece, and nothing bad could happen now. Everything would be all right – that was Shizuru's gift. She could make anything all right.

So convincing was this image that she missed her opportunity to alter the course of events. Her peripheral vision relayed movement long after the man was already aiming. Fear was all consuming, taking control of her vocal chords before she could clamp her mouth around the word – she did the very worst possible thing she could have done. She screamed Shizuru's name, shifting the attacker's focus. Natsuki imagined each action as it would happen: the older woman would see the threat and interpose herself between Natsuki and impending injury; she would be nearly cut in half by the bullets, and fall lifeless into Natsuki's arms, her face shining with blissful abandon.

But, that's not what happened. The gun swung in her direction, the finger tightened on the trigger – she saw the man's eyes widen a moment before he fired. Natsuki reeled from the force of the metal scorching its way through her flesh, landing on her side. Natsuki was sure she'd be killed, but a reddish vine wrapped around the arm holding the gun and yanked the soldier in Shizuru's direction. The man's arm separated from his body, his finger twitching, and Natsuki watched as her dearest one absorbed the remainder of the clip. She choked on the coppery fluid flooding her mouth, reaching towards the woman in scarlet as she uttered a startled cry, crumpling.

_No! No… no no no no… NO!_ Additional soldiers were gathering near the door, sensing their quarry's weakness, her inability to fight back. Natsuki pulled herself forward with the undamaged arm. She had to get to Shizuru, make sure she was still breathing. The men were growing bolder, interposing themselves between her and her goal. "Get away!" They had the scent in their nostrils, weren't going to be chased off. She tossed the knife, buried it in the forehead of the man closest to the limp form sprawled at his feet.

Time molded itself around Natsuki's quickened perceptions, slowed to a crawl as she growled, getting to her feet. '_Don't want to get you involved.'_ Lips peeled back from her teeth. _'Natsuki, I'm always thinking about you.'_ She ejected the clip and slammed in a replacement. _'I have no time for relationships.'_ The weapon lifted, bucked against her palm. _'You're not very honest, Natsuki.'_ The hammer descended on air, and she jammed her last clip into place. _'She realized you weren't coming back at all.'_ She threw the empty weapon at the closest man's head, knocking him unconscious as she tore the second gun from behind her back. _'All I want is to protect Natsuki.'_ Another obstacle tried to wrestle her, and she ripped the slide off the gun, burying it in his eye. _'If it's for my dearest one, I will do anything.'_

Shizuru murmured weakly, opening her eyes, and in that moment, in the second their eyes met, the sleeper awakened, as it had in her apartment, ignoring the mutilation she inflicted on her own injuries by moving. Blood pattered around Natsuki's feet like rain as she brought the attack to the attackers; tore muscle and sinew, broke bones, crushed throats, snapped necks, discarded the unmoving ones for the next breathing doll. Shizuru was alive – Natsuki had to protect her, nothing else mattered. Men fell around her like wheat, and she was distantly aware of shouts to take out the sniper.

Gears froze; she couldn't move any more. The dark haired girl's knees buckled; she laced her crimson smeared fingers through those of her fallen love, her heart calling out to her missing Child. _I'm sorry. I tried to catch up; I ran as fast as I could. _Her breath escaped in a peaceful sigh as her face met with the earth. _Don't leave me. _She wondered if this was how Shizuru felt, before they died. _When? _Before. _Take me with you._

_Duran!_ The metallic howl followed her into the darkness and she smiled.


	12. Chapter 12 : In the Nao

**A/N:** A shower of praises! _Dances in the rain._ Thank you for the continued support, for caring enough to cheer me on. I've always responded well to gentle prodding. _Grins._ Special thanks to **saron** and **Vega62a** (my Resolute hero!), **irina67**, **EA Simpson** (ooOOooOo, _bounces_, tell me what happens at the Ruins next!), and **shanejayell** for updating and posting – I encourage everyone… entertain me. 

**Felisse:** For your tireless efforts, for your patience, and kindness and unerring judgment, thank you for putting up with me.

**Suikun:** Ahh, sorry life is so hectic. Symbolism is one of the finest forms of representation. I'm glad you enjoyed the action – and this was, indeed, Natsuki's turning point. Nao has her good qualities – she just needs to find them. As for the Japanese at the end of Reito's section – I try to limit my usage to character defining words or phrases, with the exception of certain curses (the baka line), interjections (umm, hey, etc) and in the final instance, sounds that convey a certain meaning – Reito didn't actually say yes or no. He made a sound of assent. I will try to restrain myself though. ;)

**Seravy:** I'm a Mogwai at heart; we prefer the darkness, those places where the shadows move with a life of their own. _Smiles._ I'm glad you liked the prose.

**Teresa Kaiju:** It makes me happy it captured you, for however long you choose to read. Pain and passion, both beautiful, delicately rend the soul. I think you've been corrupted, but… don't worry, the ends justify the means.

**Alida:** Nailed Kiyohime in one. ;) Smith always called Natsuki 'princess', even in the anime – makes one wonder why, yes? Good and evil are subjective terms, but, I'd have to say I think District wins the 'evil bastards' award. Mmmm, Searrs has Mikoto. From Smith's point of view, he _was_ using District for his own ends.

**Silent Ee:** I look to you for inspiration, thus are you blessed. HiME-mon is in full session. Good to catch the honorifics; perhaps, like princess, it has some meaning? It is my greatest failing that I often take the scenic route. Did the deal break? I'm still waiting for the cradle to fall. _Grins_.

**EA Simpson:** It is possible I made Natsuki too dense, but that's how I've always perceived her – so focused she was constantly surprised by things she could have noticed, if she'd just been paying attention to the details.

**Asthalanthil:** The last few paragraphs were a confusion to several, and thanks to **b14ck-r053 **and **Keili**, I was able to smooth out the rough parts.

**B14ck-r053:** Amaryllis Belladonna actually has no relation to other plants sharing this name. The flowers Natsuki threw over the cliff looked to be part of the lily family; I picked the one I thought corresponded best in appearance and intent – Scooby snacks to anyone who can tell me what anime they are from. Thank you _sooo_ much for your assistance in proofing; you are an invaluable benefit. I amended the ending to clarify who was doing what. _Giggles._ Hanging from cliffs is one of my pastimes.

**Interstate 405:**I'm glad someone I hold in such high esteem finds our story compelling.

**Keili:** Duly noted – I did additional research and amended my spelling for mother. There is a strong genetic link between past and present, in who holds power from the blood. The HiME star served a purpose, as did the contract it represented – that constraint was lifted when they disappeared. I hope Nao redeems herself in your eyes.

**Kiltmandu:** Silly boy – you've never left muse status. Accept the rose, and your journey to the dark side will be complete.

**HikkiDesuYo:** Hold on to the edge. I've no idea what's at the bottom.

**Kyanite:** The feast of All Saints continues. Grab my hand; I'll hold you until we fall.

**Naked Fish:** Would that I be worthy of Sunrise making this fiction into fact. You were right about Akira getting whopped in the face by Mikoto – but I think, in her defense, she wasn't really trying – too concerned about Takumi. Your speculation serves you well, by half. I was giddy about reaching 100. Here's to many more!

**Nocturne:** _Gives you a scalp massage._ Scowl not, I clarified. Gomen. The mysteries are coming together gang. All we have to do is make sure the Mystery Machine doesn't run out of gas. _Coughs._ If affection so benefits you, by all means, lavish away. I'm a cuddly closet monster.

**Madness Lettuce and Tobasco:** Gah! Out quoted again. _Sighs._ That's it, I'm hiring you to be on my staff. Only the interesting relationships are built on sand. The rest are soooo… how you say... stable. :oP

**Johnny:** Yes yes! The bullets! Cry havoc and let slip the bunny slippers of war! We are all of us amazing, readership and writer: artist, dancer, and patron. I am the pane through which we see, but you, all of you, are my vista.

**XSojix:** _Joins you in the cheerleader section._ Dawn take you all, and stone be to you.

This chapter is about playing with fire, and how blithely conscience burns those unused to its effects. It catches us up, and opens the path to duality – what's done is done, but is it truly past? The dominos thresh like wheat, gather sound and force, stretching along the unknown into chaos. What follows after is anyone's guess. Tell me your thoughts as we share the bitter brew.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Chapter 12**

Nao walked quickly down the deserted hallway. The half formed echoes of her footsteps outpaced her, running far ahead into the labyrinth of doorways. She tugged at the burden over her shoulder, repositioned it so it wasn't sliding off every other minute. _This is so going to ruin my shirt._ The dark stain from the killing wound had magically multiplied, like an amoeba twinning itself, and smeared a rather sticky replica across the right side of her body.

She hadn't accompanied Kuga, though for a few minutes she had trailed after her, mostly for amusement's sake, waiting to see if the dark haired girl would discover her companion had taken her leave. She hadn't. No one noticed: not Kuga, not the men running towards the far end of the base, not the snipers dotted along the waves of hills, cupping this place in the palm of their hands. At least, she didn't _think_ the snipers noticed. She hadn't really wanted to get close enough to verify, since the action of confirmation itself would have painted a big, neon, _OVER HERE, STUPID_ sign on her back.

Kuga picked up a shadow and didn't notice this either. After seeing that, Nao'd gotten bored with following Kuga around. If her own plans hadn't conflicted, she would've likely smacked Natsuki upside the head with her own oblivious absurdity, called out to the idiot woman and revealed with a lazy wave the man stalking her. But this wasn't her battle, and she left the pair to dance undisturbed.

If Kuga couldn't take care of herself, that was hardly Nao's concern. She needed to make use of the distraction while it lasted – to get through the doorway, down the emergency illuminated stairs, past the heaps of cast off fodder, through the checkpoint. She'd had to crawl through the opening for luggage inspection; it was a damn tight fit, and she'd been sure she was going to be trapped in the machine's innards until she managed to squirm her hand into a position where she wouldn't impale herself when she cut her way free. That aside, finding the body of an officer hadn't been as difficult as she'd imagined. There were dozens of them dotting the offices and anterooms in quaint little piles.

Nao didn't know much about the military, had no idea what the various insignias of office or uniform colors meant, had nothing to base her selection upon, really, other than completeness of corpse. She wasn't sure which anatomical part the various safeguards would require, so, when she'd found a brown haired man laid low from a thrust, and not a swipe, she tossed him over her shoulder and continued on her way. Which was how she came to be where she was now, standing in the junction of corridors, debating which direction to take as she wrestled the lanky man's carcass higher on her shoulder, a particularly stubborn sack of potatoes.

She muttered angrily as she shoved the man's head away from her groin in repulsed irritation, studying the blood-smeared ink on her arm. _Even dead, men are pigs._ If the blueprints were accurate, it should be located to the left. The first security panel along that course bore the outline of a hand. Nao lifted the matching appendage to the plate, hoping this soldier's rank was sufficient to grant admittance; she wasn't looking forward to retracing her steps to look for another. The machine in the wall hummed, obediently opening the sealed door.

"Welcome, Captain Tyler."

She smirked, jogging forward. The next obstacle was an eye scanner and she held the man's face up to the reader. The security measure after that analyzed blood, followed by a numerical lock. She pulled out a small box, blowing the fine dust across the panel, noting which keys had the most body oil residue, the position the fingers would need to be in to strike them rapidly. After two attempts, the door rolled up, revealing a reception area of sorts. The interior was bland – off white walls with a desk in one corner and a recessed panel set beside the entrance.

"Huh." This room's puzzle required two people, one at the desk to push the button on the inner edge of the table, and another to depress a button on the wall. She used the late captain's head as a paperweight, holding him in place with her foot as she extended to reach its twin. It was a painful stretch, but she finally managed it, slipping through the door before it closed, and looked around in satisfaction.

Except for the mainframe's lights, twinkling like a starry night, the room was dark. Nao pulled out her root kit disk and grinned. Not much of a hacker herself, she had friends for whom breaking into high-security systems was a light before breakfast workout.

She slid the disk into place, nibbled on her lip impatiently as the programs worked, accepted the various prompts as they popped up. "Hmm." _Personnel records._ It was a start. Apprehension grew as she sifted through the information. It was possible they hadn't bothered to give the blond man a record at all. She grunted, working her way through the S's with quick keystrokes. 'T' flashed on the screen _gonna be a waste of time _passing a familiar face before she could slow down to figure out who it was. She reversed through the files, more slowly, pulling back in surprise _no way _when the face reappeared on the screen.

_Tate, Yuuichi._ "Tate?" She leaned forward, scrutinizing his service records. Joined the army two weeks after the death of his friends, went through basic training, was requested to transfer into District soon after because of his preexisting knowledge of HiMEs. Went through intensive secondary training, along with surgery and physical therapy for a wounded left knee. _Tate, huh? Wouldn't Tokiha be proud of you now, you backstabbing little bastard._ "I knew I should have killed you, instead of going after Takumi. Oh well, I'll be sure to amend my error when we meet again." 

She smiled, moving through the menus. Prisoners of war, what District charming labeled as 'satellite interests.' "Where are you… where are you?" She didn't think her mother would be confined here – it would be too grand a stroke of luck, and the powers that be didn't care an iota about her happiness. Another vaguely familiar face stared back at her and she paused. _A HiME?_ Subject, Higurashi Akane – currently enrolled in advanced behavioral conditioning, under the supervision of Tate Yuuichi s_uch a small world. _

'Subject is adequately receptive to modified technique, though she has yet to regain control over higher order matter. Theory suggests subject will require a substitute for her affections, or memory alteration concerning the death of her spouse.'

_Interesting._ The name of the prison was supplied, _Valhalla_, but other information was either restricted beyond her ability to crack, or hadn't been recorded in the first place. District had been keeping themselves busy. Her mother was also being kept there and Nao excitedly clicked on the various video surveillance links, sorted by time and date, relieved her mother was still alive, and apparently unharmed. The newest relay was only a few hours old. She touched the screen lightly, blinking away the tears as she watched her mother sit on a couch, restlessly flipping through magazines. _I'm coming, Momma. I'll get you out, and then… and then I'll make them pay. _She diligently searched through the remaining files, but it seemed Akane was the only HiME they'd managed to capture.

The redhead sighed, closing the window. She didn't know how she was going to find this Valhalla place, let alone sneak in solo and remove a high profile detainee, but it was her only option. There was no hope now of convincing dumbass and Fujino the bad guys were wearing white hats. If the two of them survived...

Something Kuga had mentioned during the ride resurfaced. Nao dug deeper, finding an entry for Searrs Foundation, and she chuckled as she read the intelligence First had managed to gather on Searrs. Useless, nothing but dead ends. She wondered if District realized this was a honeypot, a ruse – they were deliberately letting their opposition into the system, feeding them misdirecting scraps.

Still, however limited the access, here was a shared connection. Nao rubbed her hands together, laced her fingers and stretched her arms as she leaned over the keyboard. Whatever leverage she'd had with the pair, Searrs _Smith_ had taken from her. Whoever he was, it was about time he learned he wasn't the only one that could move the pieces around the board. She was more than happy to give him a demonstration.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The blond girl smoothed the lines of her picture with her thumb, added shade, blended the chalk, trying to capture her memory of the snowy lake, to recreate the expression on her guardian's face. She was torturing herself deliberately, basking in the failures she'd been punished for, perhaps seeking an outlet for her continued quest for redemption. Not Joseph's fault her blood stained his hands; he'd claimed the final restitution for events beyond both of their control. He'd also paid the price for blind loyalty to his new master. _I'm glad he's gone._

Alyssa's own agenda remained unchanged; her progenitor's dream blazed vividly, a lantern to light the dismal, dreary days of captivity. It gave her something to cling to as she quietly submitted to the endless gauntlet of tests, the numbingly repetitive questions. _Where have you been? What have you been doing? Why did you return?_ The questions had simple answers – they refused to grasp their significance because of this very lack of guile. She had gone to ground, running from both District and Searrs for over a year. She'd returned because she was homesick and weary from the constant strain of evasion.

And now she was home, in the place of her birth, confined within the section where they stored the rest of their misbehaving science projects. The services she'd rendered meant nothing; she was an embarrassment to be hidden away. _ Insulting. _When she extricated herself, she would demand answers of her own, and heaven save the Foundation if those answers didn't satisfy. She'd burn the entire organization to the ground.

The lights dimmed, brightened, dimmed again. Something was bottlenecking the flow of electricity, or slowly overloading the circuit breaker. Alyssa set aside her wintery scene as she moved to the door. She watched the fluorescents fade to a dull gray, flare into brilliant, blinding life, and burst, showering the room with a dazzling display of dying sparks and splintered glass. The door clicked, and she opened it, noticing a four tenths of a second pause between when the main power feed crashed and the secondary generator system kicked over. Four was two tenths longer than she needed.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Explosions in the bunker made getting out much more of a chore than getting in; she had to practically dig her way through the collapsed hallway. Nao was hot and sweaty and covered in dirt by the time she pushed into the nighttime air. She coughed, immediately crouching until she had a better clue what was going on. It was quiet. Not a good sign. She peeked out of her hiding spot, wondering if Kuga and Fujino really _had_ died. It could simplify things, or make them that much more complicated.

Nothing was stirring, only Nao quietly creeping between buildings, not sure which way she should be going. Fabric shifted and she froze, turning her head slightly. One of the snipers had his rifle planted squarely against his shoulder, the barrel aimed at her head. Nao summoned her Element, hand twitching as she prepared herself for a contest of speed. The sniper shook his head, lowering the weapon and pointed in the direction Kuga had taken, towards the airstrip. She remained glued to the spot, and he signaled with the hand that was pointing that she should go ahead, and he would follow. Her mouth opened and he _is it a he?_ lifted a finger to his mouth. He drew a circle in the air with the same finger, lifted four fingers, put his hand on his chest, making a fist.

_I have no fucking clue what that means._ The man pointed to another black clad figure with a rifle, slinking around the corner. _Ah._ Four snipers were working their way through the buildings, taking care of stragglers, but it wasn't safe to talk yet. He motioned her to move on again, and this time she reluctantly followed his directions. _Safety in numbers._ Even so, it made her nervous to have someone at her back.

There was a great deal of excitement ahead of them; curious, she picked up her pace. Some part of her wanted to be there to witness Kuga getting her ass handed to her, see the mighty Fujino topple from her ivory throne. She'd pay to see that. The buildings thinned; she darted behind one of the abandoned supply trucks, watching the raven-haired girl take on the universe by herself. Nao grunted, annoyed. Kuga was doing too well, killing the men in a whirl of lead and kinetic energy. But where was Fujino? She blinked in surprise, recognizing the spill of tea-shaded hair at Natsuki's feet.

_Shizuru… died?_ Her body started forward before she realized that she was moving, and a black-gloved hand restrained her, pushing her behind the truck. She shrugged the sniper off, glaring at him. _Don't you mother fucking touch me._ Nao fought to keep herself stationary as he retreated, not understanding what impetus had prompted her to rush forward. Her fingers gripped the metal along the side of the vehicle hard enough to warp it. Her heart raced, breath accelerating as she tugged against the tether; self-preservation demanded she stay put. _Why?_

The prone woman opened her eyes, lifted her head slightly. And relief washed through Nao, suffused her with a strengthless warmth. _Not dead then._ A shadow blocked out the moonlight; releasing her grip, Nao dropped to the ground, covering her head with her arms. She rolled under the truck, catching glimpses of Kuga transformed into a bipedal Cuisinart. Nao winced in spite of herself. She had no idea how Kuga managed to stay upright, roaring with fury as she kept the soldiers at bay, viciously tearing through their ranks. Even monsters have their limits – one of the men swung his rifle like a baseball bat, driving her to her knees; the dark haired girl fell forward, taking Fujino's hand in her own, and Nao's eyes narrowed, hoping the soldiers took their time – she wanted Kuga to _suffer_ die.

A flash of silver, the sound of ripping cloth, the low, undulating cry of the beast come to rescue beauty – too little too late. Nao's eyes widened and she huddled into a smaller ball until the silence returned. _The bitch must be dead, if her wolf is gone._ Coast clear, she wriggled out from under her hiding place – no men, no snipers, no three-ton mecha gone haywire with grief. She walked over to the felled HiMEs, kicking Kuga's hand. No response, but her chest was still moving. Nao gnashed her teeth, reaching down to check Fujino for a pulse. Weak, but steady. The same sense of relief overflowed, spilling into a sigh and she laughed, wondering what the hell was wrong with her.

_Well, beggars can't be choosers._ She brushed the hair away from Shizuru's face, staring at her with her head turned to one side, and couldn't muster the sense of satisfaction she should rightfully have; nothing spoiled her tranquil appreciation of those soft, vulnerable features and she realized with growing consternation she was smiling. "Bakana."

Kuga was altogether different; when the redhead turned towards her, she was once again on stable footing – felt more like herself. She loathed this woman with a deep, abiding passion, wanted to punish her for existing, for always shuffling Nao into second place. Tate's words could be interpreted any number of ways: if their path couldn't be altered, if an alliance couldn't be forged, removing them entirely wasn't out of the question. And if it came to a choice between her mother and the thorn in her side… Nao's smile melted into a rapacious sneer, her eyes alight as she flicked her wrist, willed her Element into being, held the barb of her thumb over the closed lid one of those mocking emerald eyes.

She bit her lip with anticipation as her hand lowered, wanting to savor the moment, imagining the pleasure of Kuga's death as she writhed under Nao's glove. Something very large sent her sprawling; she landed on her back, skidded a few feet as the air was crushed out of her lungs in a startled wheeze. She coughed, trying to dislodge the rib collapsing weight atop her, lifted her hand reflexively to swipe at it. She finally managed to focus on the attacker, her pupils expanded in alarm as the metallic muzzle neatly clipped the daggers off the ends of her fingers, moved swiftly to snap that gigantic steel trap so close to her face it felt as though the suction of its motion should have removed the flesh from her skull.

Oil scented breath bathed her skin as the blazing crimson eyes pinned her, the sub-audible rumble emanating from deep within its throat vibrating through her bones. Her jaw clenched, and she bit her tongue, stifling the scream before she had a chance to embarrass herself by releasing it. The pressure increased as the mecha's paw ground her into the pavement, and she wondered if she was going to be squeezed to death, but it moved. She gasped for breath as it sat back on its haunches, eyeing her warily. _Ok, how can a modified LCD convey such menace._

Obviously it wasn't going to let her have her revenge. Nao sat up and rubbed her chest. "Nice doggie. Good doggie. I wasn't going to do permanent damage." The growl gained intensity, raising the hairs on her arms and she backed away. _Hell with them both._ Brushing herself off, she got to her feet and walked away without a backwards glance, trying to remember where the idiot woman had parked her bike. She heard a rasping, scraping sound behind her and turned to see what the Child was up to, wishing she hadn't. It was following her, dragging Kuga and Fujino by their garments.

"Go away. I haven't forgotten what you did to me." The mechanical wolf rumbled, shifting its eyes between the unconscious HiMEs and Nao accusingly, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "It's not my problem, and I'm busy right now. Let District collect their booby prize, if they want them so badly." She turned on her heel and found her way back to the wire perimeter, climbed over the gate, working herself into a very bad mood. Ignoring the Child's antics was becoming increasingly difficult; that _thing_ was still dragging them after her.

The motorcycle gleamed in the darkness just ahead, and she smiled triumphantly. It couldn't possibly continue pursuit once she started driving, not without risking the lives of its charges. Heat blew the hair away from her neck as the lumbering creature nudged her roughly, causing her to stumble. She was tempted to slam her fist into its queerly angular face, but she'd only break her wrist, and probably not even dent the metal.

The wolf bumped her again, pushing her towards the still bodies. She tried to move around it; it moved to counter, interposed itself between her and the promise of escape, braced its feet in a wide stance. _An attack stance, _she corrected herself. _You stupid piece of shit. If I had Julia, I'd kick your tin can ass._ She grunted, concentrating on her Child; the presence responded to her thoughts, but not the shape. Obviously there was more to summoning now. _Kuga had a doggie treat in her pocket?_

"I don't have time to play fetch and carry." The mecha didn't budge, merely lowered its head in a way her mind interpreted as 'hackles raised', and snapped at her every time she tried to worm past. _Oh for fuck's sake._ "Fine! Fine. I was going to bring them with me anyway," she shouted disgustedly. Duran wasn't going to let her leave without them.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sniper watched through his scope as the redhead struggled with the two unconscious HiMEs, ripping the sleeves off the kimono and knotting them together, tying this makeshift rope about their waists and leaning forward to keep everyone upright as she walked the motorcycle into motion, heading into the opposite direction. His finger slipped off the trigger as the trio disappeared into the distance.

His orders were to observe the red headed one's actions and use whatever force necessary to bring all three of them in _alive _should she decide to leave her fellow maidens behind. To his relief, she followed through, and subduing them became a moot point. He lifted his hand to his ear to open a connection. "They've gone. Yes sir, subject Yuuki took Fujino and Kuga with her when she left. Should we follow?" He was quiet for a moment, listening to the response, and he nodded. "Understood. The package was delivered. We will make sure they aren't disturbed."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sweat tried to drip into Nao's eyes and blur her vision as she jabbed the elongated tweezers into the slack form in front of her; she removed the misshapen lump of lead and tossed it into the bathroom sink. It bounced off the growing collection, clattered to the floor. The bowl she'd placed in the sink to catch these remnants held an impressive number when she'd finished with the honey-haired woman; now it was almost overflowing. _I should have left them there. Should have waited until I was out of that mechanical menace's range and dumped them in a ditch someplace._ She armed the sweat off her forehead with an angry grunt.

"All your fault, you stupid, selfish bitch." It was Natsuki's fault – her and her oversized lapdog. _How did she even summon it in the first place?_ Another pointless mystery to distract herself with, but her thoughts were cunning, retraced their steps. She'd been perfectly content to let them rot, let events unfold as they would, freeing her from her obligations. She was sure she could've used spin to control the fallout, convince District that though it was regrettable to lose their precious weapons, she'd done everything in her power to avoid the situation. It would have been so much simpler, so much cleaner. Literally cleaner in this case – the bathroom looked like the prop room of a slasher film, spattered with drips and swirls of crimson, partially flooded from her attempts to wash Shizuru's injuries, gore sodden towels piled in a heap near the door.

Nao sighed, squinting to read the detailed instructions on how to correctly go about treating bullet wounds, searching the opening with her finger roughly for fragments of cloth or broken off bits of metal. The dark haired girl moaned, and she grimaced, resisting the urge to tear into her midsection, put her out of her misery permanently. This was completely unfair; she hadn't signed up for nursing duties, and caring for two critically wounded HiMEs was definitely not on her _to do _list.

_Fucking Smith._ She pulled out another oblong shaped mass and dumped it in the sink, grabbing a handful of raven hair and yanking the girl's head out of her way. _Treating me like a three year old._ Another clink into the bowl. _Like I don't know how to take care of someone._ A soft gasp of pain as she dug her finger a bit further into the hole than she needed to. _Making this my personal responsibility. _She glared at the woman lying across her lap, furiously checking to make sure she'd gotten the last of the shrapnel.

The care package had been waiting for her on the living room floor as she staggered into Fujino's apartment, carrying both women over her shoulder. After setting her benefactor on the couch and dumping Natsuki on the floor, she'd examined the large white box, discovering it contained a supply of medicines, syringes, gauze… a cornucopia of utensils and directions on how to use them in her new assignment – operation princess recovery. At the bottom of the box was a politely worded ultimatum, handwritten, offering both carrot and stick – help the HiMEs and Searrs will be delighted to assist in future endeavors, such as _Valhalla_, or refuse and they would sadly deliver evidence Nao hadn't been doing her job at all, that she'd been poking around District's restricted files instead. Signed with a flourish, with deepest regards, John Smith.

"So unfair. What the did I do deserve this?" She scoffed, lifting Kuga in her arms and hauled her into the shower, washing off the remainder of the blood caked to her body, pushing the woman's face into the tiles and she double checked her handiwork. "What makes you so special?" _Absolutely nothing. _She was ordinary in every way, from unattractively pale skin to drab, rumpled hair. Satisfied, Nao smirked, wrapped the greater portion of the limp form in layers of gauze, gave her the second series of shots – some sort of high protein, painkiller cocktail Searrs produced to speed along the knitting of muscle tissue.

She carried her burden into the bedroom, threw Natsuki onto the unoccupied side of the bed, and checked on Shizuru, smoothed the sand-shaded tresses out of her face, carefully slipping them behind an ear. Frowning thoughtfully, she pondered what sort of nourishment the older woman used to sustain her metabolism – each of them had their own personal preference: Nao pretty much ran on junk food and protein bars. Natsuki's was simple; everyone knew she loved mayonnaise, but the only staple of Fujino's diet was tea. Obviously there was nothing beneficial in the beverage itself, so it must be something added to it. Some form of sugar?

The redhead lifted Shizuru's wrist, reassuring herself the woman was indeed recuperating; her pulse was much stronger. She stood silhouetted in the dawn light, holding the smaller hand in her own for a moment before returning it to its previous position. Kuga sprawled across half the bed, slumped into an uncomfortable position and her mouth drew down in displeasure. She could always leave her like that, but, on the off chance the Fujino awakened first, it seemed better to give the appearance of taking care of her pet as well. All she needed was another lecture; she shoved Natsuki under the blanket, arranged it around her, and stretched. Everything would be better after a bath and a meal – she couldn't stand having that woman's blood on her a second longer.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Walking around the campus was a trip down memory lane. Were she leading someone from one spot to another, she might point to a certain building and say – and this was where I caught two students smoking, and explained the dangers of falling into addiction, or a rooftop and say – and this was where I was unjustly put on probation for the events during the Mixed Junior High Special Summer Cooking Re-exam. That being, it was both nostalgic and depressing, and her expressions suggested such, turned her mouth up at the corners in wistful reflection – a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

She'd tried to reach Youko, but the nurse was away for the day, probably having gone to the beach to enjoy the last few days of sunshine before the rains started in earnest. _Hitting the bars without me._ She sighed, trailing her hands over the bleached stone of the Director's garden gazebo, the impromptu central meeting spot for the Rangers. _When we were still friends._ The membership had dwindled towards the end of the Carnival, until there were two, she and Mai. And then there were none.

Midori left right after recovering from Mikoto's attack, wanting to grasp her new future with both hands, hold it inflexibly, unwilling to sacrifice even a moment of this second chance brooding over the past. She'd written post cards, passed letters and a few phone calls with those comfort allowed, but like the Rangers themselves, it had all fallen apart, like a rope fraying under the strain of too heavy a burden, and when she turned her hands over, looking into her palms, all she saw were the shades of a few sickly strands.

Head tilted back, she attempted to cling to the now, let the past flow around her with the scent of the flowering hedges, enfolding this space in its own private cosmos. She launched herself off the pillar she'd been reclining on, making her way back to the Academy as quickly as she could, jogging around the dormitories, skirting the athletic field and the pool.

The entrance to the library was large and imposing, carried an air of guarded secrets and bided, malicious intent. She shook her head and pushed past this invisible barrier, studying the winding staircases, the book lined walls. This place was old, laden with sorrow and futility. Older than Fuuka. Midori couldn't quite seize the sensation, but she'd felt it before. At the shrine, in Mikoto's presence as her Child was destroyed. The inexorable pulsation of fate, permeating and binding her to its will. She walked across the marbled floor, studying the room intently. This was it, the gates to the Land of Fuka, Kokuyouguu, or so she'd been told. Whatever opening may once have existed was long sealed – the only break in the reflective surface of the floor was the face of a giant timepiece.

It was an odd looking thing, faintly molded in the pattern of a collapsible bowl, covered in a thick layer of glass. Symbols were etched in the stone under the hands, but she couldn't make them out. There were several dials of varying shape, which could be moved, or had moved at one time, in concentric rings, as if it were a Chinese puzzle, matching symbol to symbol in some unknown pattern. _The clock of destiny._ She laughed softly, kneeling to get a better look. It wasn't designed to tell time; there were numbers along the outside edge, as one would expect, but they ascended from one to thirteen instead of stopping at twelve. _Curiouser and curiouser._

Both the big and little hands, for want of a better phrase, had stopped on the twelve, and what she supposed was the second hand was frozen a fraction after. _I really wish I could get a better look at those pictograms._ So thinking, she let her fingertips wander around the edges of the glass, searching for a seam or groove, a depression she could use to lift the crystal, to no avail. The glass was flush with the floor. She brushed her hands against her thighs, preparing to stand up when the heartbeat started anew. The smallest hand jerked forward a tick, the inner wheel sliding to match, and she staggered, gasping for breath.

The concussion of force expanded with a wrenching, bell-like toll, rippling outward from the nexus where she stood – in her mind, she watched this energy swallow the whole of the land, and she stared at the clock wide-eyed and fearful, wondering if she'd been the cause. She scrambled away, taking a seat on the stairs to see if the hands would move again, but after ninety minutes of horrified vigil, it was apparent whatever time it kept, whatever actions it measured, had nothing to do with the hours of man.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Miyu._ The golden flame danced in front of her eyes as her system restarted, bringing with it a wash of memories she had no recall of doing, no log certify these were, in fact, her own. She waited patiently for the upload to complete, settle into their accustomed places in her mind, running a diagnostic routine as she 'd been programmed to when a large influx of data became available.

"Systems check complete. This unit is operating at one hundred fifteen percent optimization." Her voice was distant, devoid of meaning, echoing off the walls of the empty storage facility. _Restore the hierarchy of orders._ She twitched as her system rebooted a second time, leaving only the logic circuits functional. In this way, she was aware of each program, each directive and process as it came back online; the progression was much slower the second time, and she tilted her head curiously once motor function became available. She had many more utilities than she'd been aware of, prior to this moment, and she meticulously incorporated the new abilities.

_Miyu_. The voice repeated, and this time recognition accompanied it. "Ojousama." _Come find me. I'm on the bottom floor of the medical wing. _"Confirmed, Alyssa Searrs call. Emergency. Unlock all high speed memory."

The glass shattered as the android sprang from the fourth floor window, leaping from building to building until she located the laboratories. She punched her fist through the access door, tore it from its hinges and jumped down the stairwell shaft, landing in a crouch, followed the soft, flickering light in a blur of motion, stopping when she came to an air duct. "Ojousama." The grill imbedded itself in the wall as she tossed it away, frantic with worry.

"I'm here, Miyu." The blond girl held out her hands and Miyu gathered her into her arms, cradled her gently as the child burrowed her head under the android's chin. They remained in this pose for the length it took to soothe the fears, reassure they were unharmed and happy to be in one another's company once more. "Do you remember everything? I know they tried to make you forget."

"Yes." Miyu pulled her protectively close. "My memory is restored."

"Do you know who the Director of the company is?" Twin sapphires tilted up to look into her face, and she smiled at the child lovingly, tousling the pale blond hair.

"John Smith, former head of the publicity sector. He removed the man who replaced your father, and took the position of Chairman." _So. The serpent was loose in the garden._

"Carry me?" The android nodded, and Alyssa wrapped her arms around Miyu's neck. Regressive and insecure, she preferred not being separated from her guardian again, not even for the distance to Smith's office. "Let's go see him, then. I have something I want to ask."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Boredom was taking its toll, making her restless and jittery. Nao'd done everything she could think of to keep herself occupied: cleaned and aired out the bathroom, done the laundry, straightened the rest of the house, read, shopped for groceries. Fujino didn't have instant _anything_; Nao had no idea how the woman survived, had the effort, time or patience to prepare things from scratch, but now the kitchen was properly stocked with Doritos and granola bars, protein shakes and coffee. On a whim, she'd picked up a few cans of sweetened condensed milk, sharing it between Shizuru and herself. It was pretty good, and after the initial _blech_ response, she'd even managed to get a little down Kuga, who, of course, only wanted mayo. Nao wrinkled her nose _heathen_ gagging under the remembered stink. The color and consistency reminded her too closely of other substances, made her nauseous.

Nao burned the clothes she'd been wearing in the backyard, debated wearing some of the honey-haired woman's clothing, but rifled through Kuga's belongings instead. The fit was closer, and even though it was a bit big on her, she was able to cinch a belt around her waist and move around without tripping. _I can't believe I'm wearing her shit; it even smells like her._

She paced, watched TV, played java Pac-Man. Too much time to think. She could go home to get her sleeping pills, but it was a long way, and it was getting dark again. What was a second sleepless night looking after people she despised? She sat down and flipped open her cell phone, messaging a dozen or so promising email acquaintances, teasingly hinting at things best left to the imagination. But not even the vivid, mildly erotic thrill of constructing daydreams; what she would do to these men once they were caught helpless in her web, slaves to whatever mercy she felt inclined to bestow as she punished them for their stupidity, their arrogance, could distract her.

What if District decided it wasn't worth the gamble, killed her mother instead of waiting around for Nao? She pulled her knees up to her chest, glancing down the darkened hallway. Her patients were almost fully recovered; it would only be another day at the most, and they'd return to their lives. Where would that leave Nao? Out in the cold, like always, struggling to play catch up and keep up at the same time. Would they help her get her mother? _Not fucking likely._ Shizuru treated her like an unwanted child, a cur, a servant, and Kuga… didn't even count.

There was still time to fix things – she weighed the consequences. If she delivered their bodies, she could collect her mother. After Fujino's attack on their base, it would be painfully obvious they were too difficult to control, so she'd be doing them a favor. Smith's attempted blackmail wouldn't make a difference. Sure, she'd be losing her gravy boat, but what use was it when her mother was held hostage? _'What does one do with a broken teacup?'_ She wouldn't get another chance to take them out; once they regained consciousness she had few illusions about her chances of winning a direct confrontation, and something had shifted. Their power was based on the strength of emotion. If Natsuki stopped suffocating her attraction, if she accepted there was a richer bond than friendship…

Nao closed her eyes, trembling. It hurt to think about that. _Fuck it. I can't take the risk._ She inhaled deeply, walking quickly to the closed bedroom door and turned the handle, wincing at the small creak as it opened. The pair were entwined, demonstrating equal portions of possessiveness towards one another, and Nao's mouth curled sullenly. _This is for the best, I'm sure of it._ She eyed Kuga warily; the girl had phenomenal healing abilities – she'd taken four times the beating Shizuru had, and was closer to being well. Nao grunted, dismissing the dark haired girl from her thoughts as she moved to stand over Fujino, watching her face as fingers curled over the pillow that had fallen off the bed, clutched it tightly between sweating hands, lowering it towards the sleeping figure.

She could have used her Element, but she didn't want to cause pain. Not this time. She wanted it to be peaceful, just… slipping into a deeper sleep. Nao owed her caregiver that much, a gentle death. The figure shifted and her heart rose, tattooing her fear into the flesh of her neck. Her muscles locked; she couldn't move, couldn't bring the pillow closer to the relaxed, pacific face no matter how much effort she put into the motion, and she ground her teeth, uttering a hurt, betrayed grunt of dissatisfaction. _Why can't I? Why why why?_ Breath hissed between her teeth as she inhaled, kneeling beside the bed, let the pillow drop form her hands.

_Something._ Her body leaned closer, one hand caressing Shizuru's cheek as she tilted the face in her direction; _what am I doing?_ jade disappeared behind lowered lashes as their lips met. Nao sighed, curling her fingers in the downy hair at the nape of the neck, pulling them closer, tingling with unexpected eagerness as she tasted the sweetness of her breath.

"Natsuki…" The word burned her as it whispered through their joined lips, and the redhead jerked her head back, overflowing with loathing, for herself, for the object of her fascination, for the realization of her weakness. _So – this is why._ Bitter laughter dissolved into sobs; grabbing the pillow in her hand, she stood as the crimson eyes opened, focusing on her. She shivered, tears spilling down her cheeks, drowning in the eyes of the woman she wanted, and couldn't have_ always her, always Kuga getting what she wanted_, filled with a numb acceptance. Fingers clenched, her arm shaking, Nao needed to deny her own compulsions, to remove the greatest source of her torment, but she was powerless to do so. _I hate you. I hate you!_

"I can't even kill you. Can't… have…" Teeth closed over the words, and the pillow fell to the floor. Shizuru was silent, staring up at her would be murderer emotionlessly. _They're the wrong shade of green._ The figure who'd been hovering over her melted back into the shadows, its departure echoing through the room as the door slammed, and she drifted back into fitful slumber, wondering who would try to awaken her with a kiss.


	13. Chapter 13 : A Thorn by Any Other Name

**A/N:** I cannot adequately describe how difficult this chapter was for me to write. Were I to be tongue in cheek, it could be chalked up to 'performance anxiety', in all of its ever-varied humor. I've been on both sides of this dilemma, in every context, and had a wealth of memory to flesh out the emotions displayed by our heroines – yet it was painful to linger in the garden of despair. Hence is this chapter exceptionally long, catering to my belief that catharsis was necessary – for myself, for them, I'm not sure. Some blending of the two, perhaps. _Bows._ Gomennasai.

Many thanks to everyone who replied, those who continue to inspire – especially those who share a bit of their internal worlds with us.

**Felisse:** You were exceptionally patient with me this time around. _Hands the box of tissues back._ Thank you. I needed that. Your dialogue suggestions were invaluable. Off to fetch the tea now.

**Koguma and Bing Man:** To my resident Japanese bachelors' holders – thank you, thank you, thank you. You're my Lifesavers, Rollos and butterscotch schnapps, all in one.

**UltraMarine:** Purely speculation – Childs share personality traits with their maidens. I'm not sure Nao would be safe around Kiyohime.

**val: **Our minds are in sync. Ah la peanut butter sandwich! Let there be snogging!

**Suikun: **One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them, one ring to bring them all, and in the Searrs to bind them. Hint given. I had _cough _considered _cough_ trying for a three way relationship between them, but I don't think it's feasible. In MO, hell yeah. In MH? _Scratches head._ Not that I could work out. I'm really glad you liked the final Nao scene.

**Alida:** _Comforts._ I'm sorry it ate your reply – I like hearing your ruminations. It makes me bouncy.

**Kiltmandu:** Ah-lis-sa. One never knows which way she will go. Nao got the long-eared, heee-haww end of the stick, yes.

**SilentEe:** I'm glad my sniper language was kinda follow-able. I'm not sure how well I can integrate the two sides of Midori, but I will do my best to keep her as pure and wonderful as she was. Big encyclopedia HiMEtanica. So astute! Wearing Natsuki's clothes could easily be… misinterpreted. Flowers are so loquacious. My inspiration for using them was from Noir.

**B14ck-r053:** I've always pictured Nao as a 'cat' burglar. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. I do so love irony. That's a really great comparison. All ultimatums should be polite. Your reviews help me greatly!

**fan-rei: **Really really – it has a happy ending.

**MLT:** Touché! _Grins._

**Shigan:** Ack! Kajiura Yuki is mine! Kidding, kidding. Shizuru probably isn't oblivious. Hmmm… I think It was a sledgehammer. _Laughs._ I was hoping the dichotomy would amuse.

**EA Simpson:** Welll…. Some of her fangirls might have snuck in… _coughs_. Thank you for the link! I enjoyed it muchly. As for advice… if you still need any, I'll be happy to put my mind _what's left of it_ to use and offer what I may – I need a short sabbatical to center myself after this.

**HikkiDesuYo:** We have another Nao convert! _Giggles._

**Nocturne:** As much as I adore you, and I do, I cannot have them unite, at least in this fiction. Worry not – those who survive will get what everyone is looking for – happily ever after. They would make an awesome pair (MH) if Nat died and Shiz survived her, or as a third in three way relationship (MO). I am deeply touched you enjoy my rendering so much. _Many puppy affections._ Common… throw the stick! I wanna play with the stick.

**jordan.D, AshwolfX, xSojix, Wave-Existence, Sumiregawa Nenene, Blah:** Bless you, each and every one, for making my life a richer experience. I thought Nao was being a bit scandalous as well. ;)

This chapter has almost no plot advancement (a single section devoted to such). But, bestill my breaking heart, I think it's worth reading anyway. There is joy in pain, there is joy in suffering, there is joy in stumbling around in the dark, as long as you find a warm hand to share it with. For me, this was, is, my personal victory. I pray I did it justice, and we walked hand in hand. Please, tell me we shared. I'm afraid of the dark.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Chapter 13 **

Natsuki woke with a start, encompassed by warmth. It was such a satisfying place to be she almost returned to the drowsy stupor she'd been in, but the infernal pressure from her bladder wouldn't let her get comfortable. She angled her nose into the heat, murmuring contentedly as skin touched skin. Her mouth opened and she breathed in deeply, savoring the taste of each scent as it flowed over her tongue. _Shizuru._ _What a nice dream. I finally caught up._

The first conscious interjection was amazement at not being dead; the nagging insistence that she evacuate didn't fit one of those ever after stories – she wasn't sure, but she'd never heard a version that included a porta-potty at the end of the lighted tunnel. Reluctantly, she tried to distance herself from the luring calefaction, but the force encircling her applied restraint, uttering displeasure.

Her second thought, _Shizuru,_ roused her completely, the need to pee forgotten. Natsuki gasped, jerked upward violently; she listened to the subdued, somewhat petulant sounds coming from beneath her, reluctant to open her eyes. _I have to be sure she's okay_. Taking a deep breath, she held it, looked down. Relief came all at once; she wrapped her arms around the sleeping form, tears blurring her vision as she nestled into Shizuru's neck, repeating her name.

"Natsuki, shhhh." The crimson eyes didn't open; Shizuru seemed more asleep than awake, though her hand lifted, stroking fingers through the long tangle of hair lying along the younger girl's back. "I'm safe." Natsuki brushed her lips over Shizuru's throat, grateful, but not quite reassured.

Natsuki couldn't feel anything wrong with Shizuru from her current position _quite the opposite _but she was worried, she had to make sure. Sitting up, she tilted the older girl's head at various angles, felt along her sides for anything needing immediate attention. The object of her inspection sighed wantonly as she pressed over ribs and midsection. Natsuki scowled, wondering if Shizuru was enjoying herself. _Be just like her._ She wasn't brave enough to remove the robe, but the loose gap between collar and waist afforded a spectacular, dizzying view, left no doubt the abdominal wounds had healed. Natsuki blushed, averting her gaze.

_I need to concentrate on something else._ Natsuki followed the musculature downward, bent the leg, verifying joints and ligaments were intact. She repeated this examination on the opposite side, noting with wry amusement Shizuru twitched when her fingers passed under the knee. Satisfied her companion was in one piece, she repeated the motion, immaturely thrilled her suspicions were correct. The older girl squirmed, moaning a breathless demurral _so not helping_, and Natsuki rolled off the bed before temptation got the better of her.

_Huh, Shizuru's ticklish._ Something she never would've guessed. Then again, she'd spent the majority of their time together trying to wrestle out of physical contact, not attempting to retaliate. Natsuki chuckled as she stumbled sleepily into the bathroom. Now that she knew, a vast panorama of revenge spread out before her, filled with limitless possibility.

Stripping off the gauze, she belatedly concluded someone had been taking care of them. They'd been returned to Shizuru's apartments, cleaned up, bandaged and fed, put in bed. _Nao?_ Must have been. She leaned over the dustbin, coughing and retching the remaining bits of lead from her system. _I wonder how many bullets she took out? A lot more than this, I bet._ She shrugged and showered, mulling over how her dreamscapes had changed perspective as she washed. There was no longer a sense of self-preservation in her struggles, alternately chasing and being spurned by Shizuru.

She had no idea what this meant, other than an instinctual understanding something had died within her. That part of herself that looked over the edge of the sheered off cliff, facing into the wind, alone, always alone, as Sakomizu stood behind her, explaining the convolutions of being in love – how a person could, in the name of selfless emotion, do terrible things – the part of herself that steadfastly swore if innocent blood was the price, she'd rather not understand love, was gone.

Her idealism had tarnished under the influence of fear and loneliness; the admission that sacrifice could gain more than it lost. The connection binding her to Shizuru wasn't concerned with what things could be eked from her broken-winged soul, but rather what Natsuki needed, and could accept. How far she was willing step into the murky, russet hued waters to defend the person she … loved. It came as a surprise, this less naïve, objective vantage from which to judge her actions. The empty canyon separating their motivations had shallowed to a stream, easily forded regardless of the bank one stepped from. There was little difference between them – they would both kill to protect what they'd won.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Natsuki dressed in a sweatshirt and shorts, glad to have her belongings within reach; wearing Shizuru's clothes made her feel awkward, constrained. Her mind insisted actions should match the apparel, be delicate and refined. _I'll take comfort over class any day._ She briefly wondered where Nao had run off to – she'd searched the dormitory from top to bottom as she towel dried her hair, making sure there weren't any surprises or uninvited guests, and found no trace of the snarky teenager. She shrugged, heading into the kitchen to find something to eat with the mayo Shizuru 'hid' for her in the back of the fridge.

It was strange to be alone in the kitchen; everything reminded her of the honey-haired woman: her movements as she heated water, the way she'd watch her surroundings through her lashes as she meditatively sipped her tea, the way the window enveloped her in a halo of light when she turned to chastise Natsuki for her eating habits. The room was the same, yet felt alien without the woman who brought it to life. Not just this room, the entire apartment. _No, everything._ Natsuki smiled, put water on to boil as she opened cabinets in search of tea leaves.

This was a day of discovery, another of Shizuru's secrets – an entire cabinet dedicated to neatly arranged bottles of honey. _Eww. What the hell does she do with it? Oh, right. That's why she drinks all that tea._ It amazed her how much she didn't know about her companion, the lack of effort she'd put into discovering the person behind the masks, what sort of life she'd led before meeting Natsuki. All the little details she ignored, accepting what was set in front of her at face value. _I never took the time to understand her, not really, and we've been best friends for… shit, going on six years now._ Why? Why hadn't she?

Her brows furrowed, going through the short, unimpressive list of excuses she managed to come up with and felt ashamed. _Because I was too busy following my own ambition to notice, or care if there was something deeper, a surface behind the mirror._ She sighed, unwrapping the granola bar she found on the table and dunked it in mayo, chewed without enjoying the taste. Truly, she'd been a very poor friend, casually taking and contributing nothing in return. Not just with Shizuru, but… mostly with her.

She'd been there to comfort Mai during the Carnival, gotten close to Yukino, taken care of Mikoto when her keeper wanted time to spend with Yuuichi, consoled Reito as his attempts to win over the woman he loved met with increasing resistance. She'd even gone drinking with Midori a few times, played pool, hung out. But she'd never given the person whose attention she craved, the most important person in her life, more than passing interest and she had no idea why. _Because she offered me forbidden fruit – it was always there, the adoration, the love, caring I… needed… but I wouldn't admit I wanted. _Wanted what? She'd accepted those gifts with gruff appreciation. _What did I want? What DO I want?_

'_You looked like you had no interest in guys, so I was starting to think other things about you._' The epiphany, when it came, conjured a sense of grotesquely ironic chagrin. Natsuki groaned, buried her head in her hands. She rubbed the space between her eyebrows, warding away the wrinkles Shizuru forever cautioned her against. _Figures._ "Shit." _Methinks I did protest too much._ She stood, finished preparing the tea, added a hefty measure of honey, and carried it into the bedroom as a peace offering.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Shizuru… Oi, Shizuru." The older girl whimpered in her sleep, curled around the pillow bunched close to her body. She didn't want to wake up, she wanted to stay in her dreams, where it was safe, where Natsuki was hers – a peaceful, passionate, reciprocal co-existence, where she could lay her hands on the small of her lover's back as they snuggled without anticipating reprisal for her inappropriate acts. A place where she wasn't quietly loathed and shunned, where it wasn't a burden, a responsibility to stay by her side.

In her dreams, Natsuki only denounced her after their passion was spent, and she could bask in the glow of sharing to keep rejection at bay, cling to the warmth of mutual contact as Natsuki flipped the hair over her shoulder in contemptuous dismissal, ignoring Shizuru's pleas _forgive me_ as she spun on her heel, leaving her to her shame.

Sometimes she lifted her hand, reaching to touch this achingly perfect image, trapped in profile as her beloved turned, ebony mane tickling the back of her fingers as it fanned mid-step, and something akin to pity glinted from the corner of Natsuki's eyes. It wasn't much, this hope, her prison, forever mocking her efforts to atone, to win back the trust she'd _betrayed_ thrown away. _Despair has a terrible price._ But it had been enough, until now, to hold sway over her emotions, keep her confined within the cats-cradle of faithful solicitude, affixed the veil when nothing else remained. _I am nothing if not nothing._

And now, she didn't even have that. _I did it again, didn't I? _She was falling into herself, end over end, dimly aware that Natsuki was calling her name, shaking her timidly. "Shi…zu…ru, wake up already. I made you tea." The last few words sounded like a supplication, as if she were being bribed, and Shizuru couldn't help smiling weakly. She didn't think she could face the accusations _'Destroying First District… I can't allow you to keep doing that'_ just yet. _So tired._ "Let me rest a bit longer."

"You need to drink something." There was a pause. "Please." It hurt to breathe, though she wasn't sure if the pain was real, or the pressure of dampening her grief. _Yes, Natsuki._ She coughed _Natsuki made me tea – it's going to taste awful_, wincing as she attempted to sit up. An arm slipped under her shoulders, gently guiding her back against the headboard; Shizuru stiffened, shying away from the contact _'I can't even kill you'_ as she opened her eyes. Her entire field of vision was filled with emerald concern, and the older girl unconsciously held her breath.

_She's so close._ "What's wrong? Are you alright?" Natsuki moved closer still, frowning, and their noses almost touched. Her breath quickened as she struggled not to move, remembering the soft pressure of lips, the sensation of fingers curling in her hair. Half-forgotten transgression, sweetly urged. Had she imagined it, lost to the thrall of fever dreams? Had there been someone standing beside the bed, familiar, yet elusive, ground silent with unspoken need? _So like myself._ It was impossible to tear the visions apart, actual from fantasy. Her hand lifted to stroke the pale cheek as confusion settled deeper, muddying her thoughts. _Have I forgotten the contours of Natsuki's lips?_ It hadn't been the same, the demand on her mouth.

She saw herself bending towards her precious one's sleeping face, lightly caressing her cheek as she longed to now. Saw Natsuki recoil in horror as Shizuru's _violation_ love bared itself, whole and merciless, before disbelieving eyes. She wanted, but could not take. _It wasn't Natsuki. She wouldn't kiss me after witnessing my revenge._ Fingers curled as the motion withered, the older girl's hand dropped, lost amidst the sheets; she lowered her glance, unable to bear the nearness of the lips she yearned to sample.

Her breath strained as she relaxed into detached necessity. "Natsuki is so sweet to worry over me, but I'm fine." She smiled, meeting her love's disbelieving glance with feigned, guarded cheerfulness. The younger girl sat back. An annoyed, somewhat thwarted scowl darkened Natsuki's features – her lips drew together as she pressed a large, lukewarm mug into Shizuru's hands, watching to make sure she swallowed.

The beverage had steeped far longer than it should, was cold, sickeningly sweet, with a harsh, bitter aftertaste. She cupped the mug between her hands tenderly, holding back her tears – it was almost too appalling to drink, pooled in the back of her mouth as she carefully savored its flavor, filled with warmth and happiness. "It's delicious."

The raven-haired girl grinned, returned affection for the praise Shizuru offered, and her heart ached, remembering this part of their relationship vividly from their younger years – the ease with which she could influence Natsuki's emotions. _So eager to please._ She drained the cup and returned it to waiting hands.

"Natsuki found the honey – how thoughtful of her to add it. I should have Natsuki make tea more often," she teased softly, enjoying the blush spreading outward from her beloved's nose. Spring hid behind Natsuki's lashes as she looked at the floor, her mouth parting as if she was going to say something, but nothing emerged. The younger girl fidgeted with the cup in her hands, and Shizuru laughed softly.

"Don't. Don't laugh at me." The tone was pitched lower than she would have expected, lacking its usual rancor, and Shizuru's dolor returned.

"I would never laugh at Natsuki, but sometimes she's so adorable, I can't help myself." She pulled her mouth up to reassure before she rolled on her side, eager to escape the finality of her defeat. "I'm sorry, Natsuki. I'm very tired."

"Oh. You should go back to sleep then. I'll… make you more tea when you wake up." Shizuru draped her arm over her face, wanting to hide the moisture leaking from the corners of her eyes.

"Mmm. I'd like that."

She held herself in this position until she heard the footsteps exiting the room, pad across the living room carpet, and then she let her shoulders relax. She buried her face in the pillow to stifle the sounds, body shaking under the force of her sobs. _Missed my last chance. She saw, oh gods, she saw the bodies._ She crushed the pillow to her face, screaming quietly into the saltiness of her own tears. It wouldn't matter what she did now. Natsuki had seen the monster and no amount of begging could erase the blood staining her fingers – she didn't care about the men she'd slain, felt no regret for their death at her hands, but Natsuki would.

In the end, all her hopes, her hunger to earn a portion of Natsuki's heart turned to wind, restively howling through the empty spaces that would never be filled. _I am nothing if not nothing._ In her venture to save Natsuki, she'd lost everything. Her offers meant nothing, because nothing was all she had to give.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Natsuki listened to the muffled sounds of Shizuru's suffering, her back leaned against the archway between the hall and the living room, feeling inadequate. She crossed her arms over her chest, banged the back of her head against the wall _stupid, so fucking stupid_, uncrossed her arms, worried the inside of her lip as she fought against the urge to go storming back into the bedroom, smack the sandy-haired woman, demand to know what was wrong _like a bulldozer through a minefield,_ because that was who she was, what she would do. _I'm not qualified for this caregiver shit._

She exhaled through her nose loudly, running her fingers through her hair, separated a section, pulled the strands through her fingers, studying the tips. Shizuru's reactions baffled her – not the whole tea thing, not even the casual teasing – that was what she'd expected on some level. But the hesitation thing. She'd known Shizuru wanted to kiss her, had responded to the intent gathered in those strawberry-hazel eyes; her pulse accelerated, pupils dilating as the fluttering anticipation spread through her abdomen – she leaned closer, expecting her companion to take the first step, waited… and then nothing.

What had stopped her? _Something I did? Something I didn't do?_ Deciding one wants a relationship after nineteen years of pushing people away was so frustrating. She hadn't taken Shizuru's actions as a rebuff; obviously she was doing something wrong. Natsuki didn't feel comfortable making the first move; it was easier, safer, to allow things to happen. She was reactive, not proactive, more at home with the idea of 'oh well, I guess it can't be helped – now that that's out of the way, lets make the best of it'. She'd always been pursued, persuaded, cajoled. People did things to her, or for her, took care of her because… _I'm incapable of taking care of myself_. She frowned. _Just because, dammit._

She thought the situation through, tried to put herself in Shizuru's place. _Was it because she was afraid I'd push her away?_ She winced. _But why? I mean, I've been trying to show her I'm willing to step up, return her feelings._ She wondered if had something to do with Shizuru's rampage through District's men. It was likely. _I should have said something._ Communicating her emotions was not one of Natsuki's strong points – it never had been. The only person she'd ever opened up with was Mai. Her jaw tightened. _Whose fault was that?_

She did get it. She got why the juggernaut had rushed in, great lady Shizuru, astride her purple mount, tea shaded locks gleaming in the firelight as she came to save the day. True, Natsuki didn't understand it completely, didn't get the whole 'get them before they get you' mentality, but the protectiveness, the willingness to punish others for hurting the one you love, the realization that when something was important to you, it didn't matter if the equation balanced out, as long as you kept that person safe, seemed… necessary now.

Natsuki wasn't happy with her own actions at the base, but she wasn't going to whack either of them over the head with unreasonable morality any more. It didn't solve anything, and it made them both unhappy – she'd figured _that_ part out right before she sacrificed them to fate: that perhaps the best way to breach the emotional gap, to stop Shizuru long enough to explain herself, was through compromise. She grunted, registering the sounds from the bedroom had tapered off, and tiptoed back to the doorway, peeking in.

The honey-haired woman had cried herself to sleep again, uncomforted and alone. Shizuru thrashed, whimpering, and Natsuki sighed, kicking off her shoes and stripping to her underwear. _At least I can provide her with companionship, even if I can't do anything else right._ She slipped under the blanket and scooted close, pulling the reticent woman against her body. The older girl flinched, burrowing into a fetal position, and she hesitated _why now, when I finally catch up to her – why is she rejecting me? _

A similarity formed in her mind, between these actions and how Mai was after Yuuichi faded into the ether. She wound her arms around her companion, holding her tightly. Struggles ceased; she urged the figure to curl up beside her, head resting high on her chest. She watched the tension ease from Shizuru's features as the older girl's hands folded loosely under her chin, riding the tide of Natsuki's breath; watched the hazy, late afternoon sunlight spin crown and bangs into feathery, amber-golden thread.

Natsuki smiled, burying her face in the spicy, fragrant hair, and closed her eyes contentedly. _This is the way it should have been. This was the way it was meant to be._ Soft snores were lulling her back to sleep, and she yawned. "You haven't lost me," she whispered, "I'm right here."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything happened quickly, and had he been asked afterwards which happened first, the door opening as the android and her mistress stepped into his office, or the buzz of the intercom bleating away as it attempted to get his attention, he wouldn't have been able to answer. The android closed the door with sealing finality, gently setting her passenger on the carpet. Her arm remolded itself to accommodate the Gatling attachment, and she tracked his movements with those semi-luminous, brandy colored eyes of hers. Smith wondered if _overkill_ was somewhere in Miyu's vocabulary, and if it was, if that was her intent, or if she were merely too furious at the inflicted separation from the golden haired child to use some lesser form of intimidation. _Probably a mixture of the two._

He opened his hands, holding them up to show he was unarmed, smiling. "Please excuse me, I really should get this." He casually pressed the button on the speaker, listening to the hysterical voice of one of his soon to be ex-employees: there had been a break in the security system… the Searrs child was nowhere to be found, and it appeared someone had removed her from the laboratory. Smith cleared his throat, interrupting the man. "Yes, yes. I'm aware of that," he stated blandly. "Compile a report on the incident, and deliver it to me. Personally." He flicked the switch and sat back in his char, returning his attention to his guests.

"Alyssa-chan. It has been a while, hasn't it. I trust you've been treated well? Haven't been too bored? " Miyu's eyes narrowed, taking a step in Smith's direction.

"It's all right, Miyu," Alyssa whispered, and the robot returned to her side. The blond smiled up at her guardian, pulling the robot's hand into her own, over her shoulder. "John Smith. You've taken over my father's company. Why?"

The Chairman's smile disappeared. "The man who replaced your father was an narrow minded, tyrannical ass. He was well on his way to ruining Searrs, and everything it stands for. I'm still untangling the mess he left behind."

He sniffed derisively, running his fingers along the lapels of his suit, over his tie, as if he sensed an unseen wrinkle that required smoothing. "Such as you, for example. It came as a great surprise to me you were apprehended. It was my intention to let bygones be bygones – but, unfortunately, I wasn't specific enough in my orders to cease all preexisting objectives."

The corners of Alyssa's mouth turned up slightly; she didn't believe a word he said. "So you weren't the one that ordered those men to drug and confine me, and wipe Miyu's memory."

"Yes and no." The man behind the desk spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "Once you'd been … captured, I had no idea what to do with you. Welcoming you back with open arms seemed a bit out of the question, considering the manner in which you were brought here. As for the preparations necessary to borrow the automaton during your internment, I supervised every stage of the process."

The girl's hands tightened on Miyu's for a moment. "What a terrible man you are, to take away my most precious person."

Smith laughed softly. "Forgive me, Alyssa-chan, but I don't have a deathwish. The Yggdrasil Unit is still Searrs property, and it's been quite useful to us in furthering our aims." He lifted his hand, as if to halt the reprimand he anticipated. "All the alterations I made to your guardian were within your power to reverse. There was a large store of memory our technicians were unable to access. It was assumed these were damaged sectors – I suspected you'd backed up existing data as a precautionary measure. The most logical course of action would have been to dump the memory core and replace it; I did not."

"Mmmm." Everything the man had said thus far carried the burden of proof. She didn't bother trying to refute it. "What are the Foundation's goals right now?"

"Our purpose remain unchanged: to bring about the Golden Era of mankind. Only the method differs." The man behind the desk stared at Alyssa with dispassionate ice blue eyes, noting how her brows crowded together, mouth thinning into an angry line.

"Then I will restore my father's vision."

Smith's eyebrows rose, tipping his body forward in his chair. He decided to push a bit further. _The most convincing lie is the truth._ "That's very disappointing. His vision was inherently flawed. If you choose to follow in his footsteps, we will fail to achieve our goal, just as we did before." The blond's face flushed, her eyes flashing, and he took the appropriate retreat to mollify her.

"Your father was a great man, Alyssa, and I respected him very much," _or I would have assassinated him_, "but he couldn't see beyond the cancer that's been plaguing this company for centuries – stagnation. I intend to accomplish our ambition within my lifetime – this necessitates change. Compelling the HiMEs to join us, whether or not they submit, is pointless: if they resist we dispose of them, and are forced to wait until the Carnival starts over; if they cave, we gain a single generation of power, and then it is gone. One lifetime isn't long enough."

She was uncertain – he could sense it, taste it. She was wavering on the topmost rung, looking around for a handhold. He kept his voice low and even.

"The stumbling block keeping us from success isn't the HiMEs – it's the Carnival. The red star didn't hold the mysteries of higher order matter. Not even your father believed that – or he would have simply directed you to enter the contest and claim your prize. Wouldn't that have been easier, Alyssa-chan? Your gifts, combined with Miyu's capabilities… who do you think would have won?"

Alyssa stepped backwards, almost underneath the android, wrapped her arm around Miyu's leg, leaning on it for support as she considered Smith's words. She'd never taken the time to question her father's decisions – what obedient child did? If she thought about it now, though, his decision to break the rules, to get control of the Carnival before it began in earnest, when this same method had been proved ineffective time and time again…

"I couldn't join. I'm a fake HiME." Her tone was flat, offering little advantage for him to move forward, but she was clinging to the robot's leg, and he could see depression in her eyes. He dipped his head in her direction, acknowledging she had a point.

"This may or may not be true. It's what you've always been told, but I wonder." Smith paused, as he considered the evidence – his attempts to manipulate the child may have stumbled across an error; he mused aloud curiously. "Tell me, do you still have the ability to summon your creatures – your Orphans?"

Auroral blue met tawny-red as she looked up into her guardian's face. Miyu's expression hadn't changed once during the conversation – maintained the cold, unforgiving lines even now, but something had passed between them. The hawk-faced man inched a bit closer to his desk, watching the interchange intently – after all, his life was also on the line.

"I'm… I don't know. Joseph always started the ritual."

_Of course he did._ The child wouldn't remember the measures they'd taken to protect themselves from her ever-growing authority; she'd been too young at the time. Artemis, the Child satellite Searrs had manufactured, was originally nothing more than one of the Orphans she'd summoned. They'd modified and enhanced it, instructed their protégée to grant the creature a portion of herself, form an attachment, to fulfill the perquisites for becoming a 'real' maiden.

Smith let his thoughts wander elsewhere; it was obvious she hadn't tried summoning after Glear's death, and he didn't dare test his theory before assurance of Alyssa's loyalty. The idea was planted, and that was enough.

There were plenty of other signs Foundation's little Frankenstein exceeded her original design. Unlike the other Millennium series fabrications, clones processed from the preserved tissue of a HiME slain during the previous Carnival, this girl had carried the brand signifying her candidacy. Searrs succeeded beyond their wildest expectations; every HiME was born with the birthmark, a mark that faded until the spirit quickened, blood awakening to the forces driving it forth. Alyssa's symbol hadn't disappeared – after thousands of experiments, a hundred forty two failures, they'd finally created an acceptable host, fusing body with soul in concerted symbiosis. _Used the Dark Lord's machinations against him._

The Chairman decided to hedge his bet; he had little to lose. "I don't believe the HiME star was anything more than a means to an end, a way of controlling the HiMEs by limiting how they could use their power. This constraint was removed – something you assisted with, by directing Miyu to destroy the Pillars of Seal. But the impetus, the _reason_ these events, the Carnival itself, take place is still in motion. In three hundred years we will, every single one of us, repeat this futile performance – unless we do whatever's necessary to disrupt the cycle.

"That's the only way we'll reach the Golden Era. We need to work with the HiMEs to discover the secret of matter manifestation. I've already set the board, moved the pieces into position, but I need your assistance, your power. There's so much left to do, and fate is working against us. Let me help you realize your father's dream, before it's too late."

The pair stood silently, and he sighed, slumping back into his chair while he awaited their verdict. Whichever way she decided, he had little to worry about. She'd either join him, or eliminate him. He hoped for _Saeko's _the HiME's sake, for all their sakes, Alyssa made the right decision. Destiny was already in motion, and time was running out.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something was tickling her face. Shizuru sat up, rubbing the middle of her forehead. She had a splitting headache. The room was dark, blanketed in a cool milky glow from behind the curtains blowing gently in the evening breeze. Natsuki curled the hand draped across her stomach, and she marveled at the beautiful figure resting at her side, traced the features with a tender glance – the curve of the eyebrows, the graceful swoop of the nose – stared, mesmerized at Natsuki's mouth. The details became more distinct as she gravitated nearer, moth to flame, beckoned beyond reason or ability to endure. Close enough for her own breath to warm her face, washing back from Natsuki's skin.

Her chest labored as the muscles in her abdomen clenched, forcing the air from her lungs in painful gasps. She trembled, digging her nails into her palm, forcing her eyes closed as she desperately tried to wrest control over her actions from the unrequited compulsion inviting her forward, managed to stop her descent a fraction from its purpose. Flesh was soft, so easily rent – she bit her lip, whining softly as the stabbing ache caught in her throat, suffocating her – she shoved herself to the relative safety of the bed's edge, consumed with guilt.

_I can't do this. I can't be around her without giving in._ Shizuru could have managed, could cope as long as possibility remained, but now even that was gone. Her fists balled in the sheet, head hanging between her shoulders. _Why can't I control my feelings?_ It was easier before, when Natsuki accepted the fleeting embraces with fearful consternation – longing and regret. It was easier when the edges were sharper, more biting, easier to lapse into wounded silence, hide behind the counterfeit reserve when she was being pushed away.

_I won't cry again, I won't!_ Tears scalded her cheeks, coalesced on her chin, dripped meaninglessly into her lap. _Comfort – she forces herself to remain with me, catering to my weakness – and even this won't last._ The scream was building below her frantically beating heart, turned her towards the figure at her side, seeking consolation, something to drown inside herself as she let go, let the water envelop her. _She doesn't understand, doesn't realize keeping me at arm's length was kinder. Her conscience-stricken, fumbling attempts are hurting her. Neither of us can accept the truth._ Shizuru dove into that abyss, wrenched herself, kicking and screaming, into the harsh glare of denied realization.

Natsuki reached for her, blindly searched the afterimage of heat left behind when she'd moved and she smiled through her sadness, touched by the childlike gesture. _I'm here, Natsuki._ She combed her fingers through the younger girl's bangs, ran her nails ever so carefully along the downy midnight tresses until motion ceased, returning her beloved to peaceful rest. The older girl was unable to affect the distance on her own, didn't have the strength of will to separate them, to drive her dark angel away; Natsuki wished it so. She buried her face in the hair atop Natsuki's head, inhaled deeply – the scent was musky, like the smell of the earth after a rainstorm.

_This is, indeed, a very pleasant dream_, _but all dreams must end_. "Kannin na, Natsuki."

The tawny-haired woman kissed the pale forehead, rose fluidly, wiping her palms over her cheeks. She would do what was necessary, because it was her responsibility. _Open the cage; set us free._ Natsuki had stopped her before, in her simple, forthright denunciation of giving up, not understanding the cauterization, the sincerity of her atonement. _Because Natsuki has a beautiful soul, removed from the defilement I bring._ This time she would make sure that wasn't possible.

Shizuru unknotted the tie around her waist, let the robe slip over her shoulders as she walked, almost to the bathroom doorway when a sound startled her. She turned towards the bed, gathering the garment in front of her chest anxiously. "Natsuki?"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She yawned and stretched, noticing that it was much later now; she'd felt her teddybear remove itself from the bed, whispering apologies, and wondered where Shizuru was going, had been, in fact, just about to ask her companion what she was sorry for when she noticed the woman was undressing. Deciding it was probably better if she didn't say anything after all, and unable to turn away as she probably should have, she continued watching the process. Her breath caught as silk slipped midway down Shizuru's back, illuminating glimpses of curve beneath the hair.

Blinking a few times, she self-consciously lifted her hand to her nose, afraid of a repeat of the last time she'd felt so overwhelmed. The figure halted, as if sensing she was awake, and she pulled herself deeper into the bedding, mortified she'd been spying. And then Natsuki's world stopped, mind tripping over itself as she watched Shizuru turn in slow motion, revealing her peace by piece: her shoulder, her chin, the profile of her face, the proportion of her neck, the shadows pooled between her breasts. Another of those hacking, hairball sounds squeezed out of her lungs as she started at the most enrapturing sight _oh wow _she'd ever seen.

"Natsuki?"

She wanted to answer; hadn't a clue what to say. It was probably for the best her vocal chords, like the rest of her, refused to operate, distantly aware that there was something alarming about the tone of that voice, something warningly similar to another period of time that had ended in tragedy. But she couldn't respond, couldn't think for lack of adequate circulation.

She _did_ recognize the look of intense pain which crossed the older girl's face, the look of resignation, the thinning of her lips as she dropped her eyes, as if she were ashamed, or disappointed. Shizuru took a deep breath, her shoulders drooping, bunched the hands holding her covering into white knuckled fists, and let the robe fall.

_Oh my fucking god._ Thinking, noticeably sluggish before this, became impossible, a ludicrous waste of energy – energy better spent in slack-jawed, flame faced, swooning wonderment. The intensity of the sensation, as if someone had just sucker punched her in the stomach, would have doubled her over if she hadn't been frozen in place. Natsuki tried to slow her breath; she was on the verge of passing out. _Can't do that, something's wrong._

The older girl raised her head, her face as devoid of emotion as that of a corpse, only her eyes held any expression – burned with a seething, anguished fury, and Natsuki flinched – she'd never seen this side of her friend, balanced between eagerness and shame. _She's angry?_

"I accept that Natsuki doesn't return my feelings, is so disgusted she can't speak." The words were spoken in a heart-wrenching whisper, and she tried to collect herself enough to shout at the woman for her stupidity, to shake her out of this idea, but nothing emerged. _No, no, Shizuru, what's wrong?_ The woman turned her back on her _this isn't happening_, paused just inside the doorway, gripping the jamb for support. "If Natsuki can't join me, she shouldn't force herself to stay. One freedom is as good as another. Please… leave me."

Natsuki sat up as the door closed, released from her immobility by shock; she'd never been on the receiving end of Shizuru's resentment. She listened to the shower sputter to life, wrapped in a numb cocoon _just like my nightmares_ of rejection. Part of her was petulantly angry at the honey-haired woman for so completely misunderstanding the reason for her silence. Another part wanted to curl up in a ball and cry – in its own way, this was the worst betrayal she'd endured, cast aside by the person she needed most, after they'd started the path to healing the distance between them.

The strongest impetus though, beyond her own re-opened wounds, was fear of what would happen if she _did_ leave. Once again, she hadn't been able to read the warning signs in time to stop the train-wreck, and things were spiraling wildly out of control. _I need to be honest with her, tell her my feelings – there's still time._

She walked over to the bathroom, knocking lightly, and when this wasn't answered, she opened the door, stepping into the steamy wonderland fearful of what she might find. Natsuki watched the older girl's shadow through the curtain: Shizuru was standing with her arms braced against the wall, breathing raggedly, refusing to acknowledge her presence.

The muscles across her jaw tightened. She tried to get a handle on her temper. Ripping the curtain off its hooks and beating Shizuru senseless wouldn't solve anything. _How do I deal with this? How can I make her understand?_ Compromise. She sighed, wavering under the futility of the moment. There was no other way get through to Shizuru. If she didn't take the initiative, didn't express her affection, overcome their shared insecurities, she'd lose Shizuru as she had before. Her mind dredged up the image of the older girl crouched in the corner, humming contentedly as life wept itself from slashed wrists. She shook her head, frowning. _I won't let that happen again._

Natsuki undressed, stepping into the shower, nervously watching the woman's back. She was still terrified, had no idea how far she was capable of changing to become Shizuru's partner, but she had to try. For once, she had to support the woman she loved, catch Shizuru before the darkness ruined this chance. Not because she had to, not because she was guilted into it, but… _because that's what I want._

"Don't turn around. I have something to say."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Shizuru… I…" The voice trailed off as laughter spilled from her throat. _Natsuki, please…_ Isolated and humorless, the sound continued – her passion, her pain, she abandoned the pretense of control.

"Natsuki is going to leave me." She felt remote, aloof, disregarded the frantic, clawing hysteria eating away at her resolve. Saying it aloud was so much worse than the voices shouting affirmation in her mind; Shizuru hunched her shoulders, sagging further into the wall.

"Why would I leave you?"

"Natsuki will be free. Nothing is left to keep you," her voice fell below audible. Nothing if not nothing. "I did not want you to see. I only wanted to protect Natsuki. But fate is spiteful, no more second lives." The tears felt like blood running down her cheeks. "So much blood." Her breath hitched. "I don't care about those men. I don't care if they suffered, or if their death was sudden – they hurt you; I removed them. All I can see is Natsuki."

The dark haired girl did not leave, as she should have. She did not accuse and turn away, renouncing the monster. Shizuru was not even sure she had been heard; perhaps she'd already died and was only a ghost saying the words she had died saying, to an imagined afterlife image of her love.

In her mind, Natsuki's lips moved, but she couldn't hear; like her thoughts, the image was incomplete, mute perfection. "Go," Shizuru hissed. "Natsuki is free to go. I do not want this sacrifice from you."

The image of her beloved shook her head, no, refusing to leave, refusing to be left behind.

"How amusing – do you think I can be saved by this?"

_Don't leave me._

She fiddled with the razor in her fingers, spun it, fitting it snugly between her thumb and forefinger. _Leave…_ She closed her eyes as her beloved crept closer, tentatively touching her shoulder. _I'll make it painless._ Her fingers clenched around the sharpened edge, biting deeply into the flesh. Blood welled between her knuckles, pattering to the floor, swirled in the water under her feet.

_Take me with you._

She exhaled as touch on her shoulder trailed down her arm, preparing herself for the stroke. _I love you. Forgive me._

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Yes," Natsuki said calmly, wrapping her arm around the trembling figure's stomach, closing the distance separating them. _I think this will save us both._ Her fingers touched something hard as she tried to lace her fingers through Shizuru's and she retreated a step, pulling the unresisting arm behind the older woman's back, pried the hand open, staring in disbelief at the tiny object slicing into the palm.

An injured, offended noise worked its way up from her lungs; her vision blurred, and she blinked away the unwanted tears, grabbing the razor before her companion could damage herself with it further. _Why now? Why?_

"Dammit!" She shoved the woman before her roughly into the tiled wall, held the delicately boned wrist in one hand, fit the razor against the vein with the other. "Is this what you want? What you really want? Because I'll kill you again, if that's what it takes make you happy," Natsuki screamed at her harshly. "Oi, answer me!"

"Do you hate me that much?" The words stabbed like a knife, echoed through her memory, left her feeling weak. _Is this what she meant, even then?_ Her teeth ground together as she dropped Shizuru's arm, disgusted with herself. _I never understand until it hurts._ She threw the razor across the room, watched it careen off the floorboard, land in the corner, lazily circle round and round. She realized Shizuru was sobbing and sighed.

"Bakayaro." She couldn't accuse, or misplace the blame; this was her doing. Natsuki smiled sadly _I'm so pathetic_; quietude descended as it had before, when she soothed them both in the church, banished her lingering doubts. Shizuru uttered a soft sound of surprise, went ridged as she leaned forward, pulling the woman into her arms; she laid her head against the back of the older girl's neck, letting the pressure of her body speak for her. And for a long moment, that's all there was in the world, warm water pouring over them both.

"Shizuru, you were always the one I came to, when I couldn't handle the world. It feels safe, like everything's going to be okay. I know… I know I wasn't a good friend to you. I ignored you, wasn't there when you needed me. I'm bad at putting feelings into words, and it's easier to hide.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I was just… confused. I felt trapped, because I was – no, I am, scared. I always thought being alone made me a stronger person, but I was wrong. Protecting the one I love is more important than not needing anyone. I understand that now.

"I forgive you, Shizuru. If you can forgive me, I finally know what I want."

The raven-haired girl waited patiently for what she'd said to sink in, for the woman she cradled to release the tension in her limbs and accept her comfort. It felt odd, to be in such an intimate position with another person without embarrassment or fear – she doubted it would last, but for right now she enjoyed; it was blissful – serene and complete.

"What does Natsuki want?"

"To be with you." _This truth shit is pretty simple._ "But I need to ask you something first, because _I still feel violated_ I have the right to know." Shizuru braced herself, as if she expected a blow. Natsuki held her breath, as if she were about to deliver one, and perhaps she was, but this was the last battle, before she could move on.

"Why did you rape me?"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_So. Is that what she thought?_ "I didn't. I kept Natsuki warm with my body and stayed close to her when I shouldn't have. I kissed her while she was sleeping – pretended Natsuki would return my love." Shizuru's voice trailed off into bittersweet hush. Proof she wasn't dreaming: she would never have said that in a dream. "There's nothing I can do make up for this, but I never touched Natsuki." _As if we were lovers. _She was finally able to interact with her surroundings, released from the weightless limbo of incongruous reality _she's not wearing anything_. Shizuru gathered the remains of regret in a breath – effort necessary to manage internal pressure waned, voices falling silent. She exhaled, wallowing in the unaccustomed gravity.

Natsuki let the tension unwind, sighing accompaniment. She wasn't sure how she felt about this – thankful to know the truth, annoyed she hadn't asked sooner, sheepish for branding Shizuru the villain in the first place. _At least now I know._ The figure in her arms shifted, as if she wished to face her captor – Natsuki panicked, tightening her hold. "Wait! I'm not ready yet." The furious blush resurfaced _knew it was too good to last_. Her features set themselves in determined lines _there's nothing to be afraid of… it's not like this is the first time she's seen me naked_. She deliberately lowered her arms to her sides, balling her fists to keep them stationary as Shizuru turned. She wanted to master her fear – but asking herself to meet the strawberry-hazel gaze was too much.

The older girl settled her hand on Natsuki's cheek. "Would Natsuki prefer it if I closed my eyes too?" Shizuru asked gently. Humor colored her words as she looked down at the shorter woman's face, screwed into a grimace of seriousness, chin jutted out, left eyebrow twitching madly. It was impossible not to tease a little, to relax her. She was fairly sure Natsuki never understood _why_ she lightly provoked – indignation was the ultimate cure for whatever ailed her little lone wolf.

"No, dammit, how would that solve anything?" The dark haired girl glared, masking her fright. Shizuru's passivity was reassuring. Whatever she'd expected_ raging, hormonal, after the storm grope session_, all Natsuki found as she studied the honey-haired woman's face were her own insecurities staring back at her. That and infinite patience – tenderness that startled her, further flushed her cheeks. The heat melted through her like brandy, settled in the pit of her stomach, encouraging her nearer to the source.

Shizuru nervously watched this emotional display _an open book_, off kilter, trying to balance on one foot in the middle of a hurricane. _It isn't a suggestion, be patient._ She didn't want to wait; she'd been searching for a spark of desire on her beloved's face forever. It was here. She intended to claim ownership. _My Natsuki. Not yet, if you wait, you'll get more. I'll make you… stay still… all mine._ Detached calculation won. Forcing was counterproductive – if Natsuki didn't learn to accept her attraction, their suffering had been pointless.

_I feel so strange._ Inaction was unbearable; Natsuki's body made the decision for her, rushed her forward to meet the come hither smile. She tasted Shizuru's breath as the woman whispered her name _Natsuki _into her mouth. _She tastes like honey._ It was sweet, and silky, and warm, fed the heat in her midsection. She wanted more, pressed Shizuru into the wall. The older girl stepped backwards to accommodate her, laying hands lightly on her hips to steady them. Natsuki mumbled unconscious enjoyment, though she was stymied as well; her concept of intimacy was hazy and indistinct. _I want you._

_Take me._

The raven-haired girl grunted in irritation. She felt Shizuru's lips mold themselves into the familiar teasing grin, obviously amused. Fingers caressed the small of her back, and Natsuki shivered, leaned further into the pliant curves. She gasped in surprise as Shizuru's tongue touched her bottom lip. The reaction was immediate and overwhelming, left her breathless with longing; when the mouth against hers parted in invitation she accepted, moaning as their tongues met. Her partner whimpered, curling fingertips into her skin.

Drunk on the pleasure, Shizuru tipped her head back in surrender; the younger girl nuzzled her neck, nipped her throat, cupped the side of her breast, tentatively brushed a thumb over the sensitive areas, finally replacing fingers with the pressure of her mouth. Shizuru's back curved, crying out as the delicate torment continued.

A creature of instinct, Natsuki chased the shape of her fascination, reveling in the older girl's responses. She traced her fingers along the dipping softness of Shizuru's stomach, followed the line of symmetry leading between her legs. The tawny-haired girl arched into the contact, repositioning herself with an uncanny, sensuous ease.

Shizuru offered Natsuki whatever portion of herself her beloved seemed most interested in, nestled her head next to Natsuki's ear, panting her reactions. She murmured her love until articulation failed; words disappeared displaced by sensation and emotion, shades, scents, arousal – everything but words.

"Natsuki…" She'd never heard that quality, somewhere between pain and worship, pass the older girl's lips; it ripped her bare, left her trembling as Shizuru clutched her in a soft, acquiescent embrace, spasms trapping her hand until they relaxed. Her continued hunger bewildered Natsuki, and she whined, filled with feverish, almost sleepy craving. She looked up as Shizuru slipped the damp strands out of her face, coaxed the hair behind her ears, watching her with quiet, expectant intensity. She scowled, trying to phrase something she couldn't quite comprehend. "Shizuru…" Her voice was hoarse, vibrated under the strain of confused longing, burning the back of her throat.

"Yes, Natsuki?"

"I want…"

"What does Natsuki want?"

The dark haired girl choked on the profanity she consumed without voicing. "You're being cruel."

"Am I?"

Natsuki took a deep breath. She supposed this was revenge for putting Shizuru off, but it was difficult to follow her thoughts even this far, and she relented. "I want you." One of those perfect eyebrows quirked, and she bitterly wondered how the devil-woman regained her composure so quickly.

"Ara, ara. How wonderful to be wanted by Natsuki so soon after she had me…." The younger girl appeared to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and Shizuru smiled at her lovingly, cutting off the retort with the warmth of her lips. She stroked the underside of Natsuki's chin. "Does Natsuki want me to make her mine?"

Natsuki swallowed, mesmerized by the unspoken, cinnamon hued command, floundering in the mirror like depths – once more, they reflected her own emotions, filled her with a helpless, regressive need. The older girl wanted her, but was unwilling soothe the ache without consent. "Yes," she whispered, and Shizuru switched places with her, leaning her firmly against the wall. Natsuki twined her fingers through the tea-shaded hair as her lover covered her with lavish attention, knelt in front of her.

Shizuru glanced up through the screen of her bangs, smug satisfaction teasing around the corners of her mouth as she splayed her fingers possessively under Natsuki's heaving chest, supporting the girl. She ducked her head, taking what was rightfully hers, kindly relieving Natsuki's confusion.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Do you forgive me?_

_Does Natsuki love me?_

_Yes. I love you. _

_Ureshii. I forgive you._


	14. Chapter 14 : The Morning After

**A/N:** It's been difficult for me to write for a while (not saying I need the pogo stick, I know exactly how the story is going to unfold, with some minor revising and interweaving of others' ideas – yes I do borrow from y'all), because I've been in a serious funk. So, I was calling in to work dead, as I have in the past. I even have a speech (yes, I've really used this) prepared: _"I'm sorry I can't come in to work today. I'm suffering from a lingering case of rigor mortis, complicated by arrested respiration and circulatory function._

_"I believe this malaise is temporary, and, as such, will be back to work either tomorrow or the next day, depending on medical recommendations to the contrary, or accelerated resurrection. Thank you for your time, and attention."_

Mostly it was recovering from the emotional tumult the previous chapter left me in. Some of it was lack of motivation to continue (all right, a _lot_ of it was), seeing as my own personal climax (pardon the pun) was achieved, and I've had to stumble around looking for additional inspiration.

To this end, I make a heart-felt appeal to those who, like me, would really like to see this work spin itself motionless, and not rot away into the overbearingly large pile of things I've never completed. Give me your strength, your words of praise and insight. Help me find my drive. Mostly when I write, I do so for the pleasure of the act itself, supported by self-interest, and float on the well-wishes of those who share in the creation. For now, continue to carry me on your shoulders, if you would, and I promise the reward will be worth the effort. Doomo arigatoo gozaimasu.

**Felisse:** Your suggestions were perfect, your timing superb. I congratulate your patience… you had to endure my anxiety. Luckily, I'm a fair hand at spackling, or the likeness of my head would still be imprinted on your wall. ;)

**madlaxx: **Wellll… to agree with you in so many words, yes. I've read the coming to terms others created with varying levels of _as if!_, or _rock on!_ and work from there. ;) Good to know my timing wasn't grotesque! That was my whole reason for writing this after all. _laughs_ I'm deeply in love with all the characters – I'm glad you liked my impersonations.

**Kitsuki-chan: **I've always assumed the 'money shot' was worthless without a story to support it – the richer, deeper the story, the more affecting the sensationalism became. Awww, kawaii! A fellow puppy. _-scritches and lavishes attention; bounds around, tail wagging madly_- Good girl! I'll do my very best for you. I promise.

**HikkiDesuYo:** No nosebleed, but I did have a minor seizure of bliss. I don't believe this supplants Mai HiME, but I do think it's a worthy addendum. We (because I am many in one) love you, too.

**shitnat fan: **Not the end. Not even the beginning of the end, though it might be the end of the beginning.

**Unit 667 Ra:** _-blushes-_ I'm dying of praise! I'm not worthy, and yet… it feels so good. Don't stop. About damn time indeed. Reread it as many times as you please; we, the work and I, adore you. _-pokes-_ Write more Beauty and the Beast. _-grins_- Humor, the ultimate aphrodisiac.

**Kinryuu:** Your suppositions continue to astound and delight me – ke-rect! Was Artemis her 'real Child'? Hmmm. Smith? An antagonist? _-scratches head_- Well, sure… he is. Right? Your points about Shizuru not really offering Natsuki a look behind the masks was accurate. Likewise, Natsuki did little to alleviate Shizuru's _I am so evil_ mindset. Fault is too simple – as I've mentioned in other reviews… the brass ring hangs above for the HiMEs to take, and you're left smacking your forehead when they spur the plastic horse out of reach.

The hard part for me is staying within the lines, though I believe I've been doing a decent job of it. I _do_ want to focus on every aspect of this story: romance, drama, adventure. Not late. Never late. We look forward to your critique and synopses. If you ever want to expand your thoughts, feel free. We would look forward to that too.

**Krampus:** Feel free to point other Shizuru/Natsuki fans in the direction of this work. Complete with _'aoooogah!'_ sound effects. I'm fond of your kudos. I love it when a co-dependant plan comes together.

**Johnny:** I'm glad it excites you! Captivation is my goal – awe, wonderment are a really nice bonus. I, too, believe reading is an art form. Imagination takes many forms. By your command, I give you MORE!

**Jen-chan:** Sledgehammers are bound to leave you dazed and confused – that's the perfect state of mind to read in. Nao has some growing to do of her own – and I'm sure the pain will be… intoxicating. You're the first to mention how knowing Shizuru's internal world affected your previous reading – I like that. That's the way it's supposed to be. I cannot guarantee the darkness is fading into the dawn. But, I'll try to make it as palatable as the rest. Scream at the monitor! If I listen very closely, I can almost catch the words… A shivering ball. -_hugs self-_ So blissful.

**Shigan: **I leave whether or not she finally got to pee to the individual. _-laughs_- It was a powerful chapter – left me impotent. _coughs_ I know we, well, most of us, have different categories for love, affection, lust, sex, attraction. For me, the gestalt, the communion of mind, body and spirit, is perfection. Mmmm… I'm sure their relationship will need a bit more pruning. Yes! Smith was on a first name basis with Natsuki's mother. Ennnteresting, nee?

**Alida:** Ahh, purrr-haps you should have expected this.

**b14ck-r053:** _That_ is a very good question indeed. Were there different players? As always, thank you thank you for your corrections! _-swoons-_ You are my hero/ine. Most are annoyed by my attention to detail. _-laughs-_ Shizuru should teach Natsuki how to make tea. I wonder if she can get Natsuki to stop tinkering with her bike long enough to learn… As for lack of thought, that was totally how I react the first time I figure out I'm attracted. In Entropy-ese, I call this, being beaten with a Nerf bat o'love. I figured Natsuki _would_ ask why Shizuru molested her. I appreciate every word of your reviews – I am honored that you have so much to say.

**kikyo4ever:** Nao has Shizuru in ways she doesn't yet realize. I'm glad you're continuing to enjoy!

**Silent Ee:** Have I ever mentioned how nice it is to bask in your praise? Please… allow me to reinforce – I was so very tired, and you're like a warm binkee, fresh from the dryer. If you have the time, I'd really like to hear how you imagined it would be. I, too, am a fount of useless knowledge, not so intricate as your own. Your warning of the corners was accurate. _-hugs_- I don't need the pogo stick just yet. But I could sure use a cup of hot chocolate and warm-weather discourse. Smith can't help pulling strings – he's a cat. _'The course of true love', 'all's fair', 'how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop? The world may never know.'_

**Sumiregawa Nenene:** "Eat more chiken!" _-smiles_- Yum.

**Interstate 405: **I hold all those who captivate me in high regard. I hope this makes your day as well. _-grins-_ I know. I'm a hedonist.

**EA Simpson:** _-laughs_- I agree with Silent – EA, you're amazing. I love your sense of humor. Yes. A day and a night passed between the kiss (in the evening) and the reconciliation (the second evening). I'd like to mention again how much I enjoy your Ruins fiction. So engaging. So addictive.

**Kiltmandu:** I can't wait to see what Nao does either. ;) Thank you again for your emotional sounding – I couldn't do this without you.

**ThunderHeart:** So glad you found it and liked! I hope to keep your interest.

**Kieli:** Nao is a very complex character – in the anime, in my mind. She's still growing, becoming, changing into what she will be. Like a chrysalis. In the series, Smith was an ambiguous character, one that I saw great potential in. My version is, perhaps, a bit more cunning – but he wasn't in charge of Searrs. And he isn't perfect. Alyssa is, and always will be, the chink in his armor. I'm sure Alyssa did know a great deal more than Glear suspected – however, her father supplied her with the outline in which she colored. Being without that guidance is bound to have some effect. -_hugs-_ I appreciate your continued interest. I remain one of your biggest fans.

**XSojix:** I agree. Finally! I wonder what Nao will do?

**VT:** Thank you! _-performs CPR-_

**Hellwolf:** Not a jerk! I'm glad you took the time to review. I do put a lot of effort, and myself, into those things I write. The dark is always better for someone to share it with. I'm going to make myself finish if it kills me.

**jordan.D:** It was very sweet. I loved it.

**Mad (semi)Literate Troubador: **"(i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands" Mmmm… stunning. Completely edible acclaim. Thank you, fellow minstrel. I will happily dance, if you pipe.

In this chapter, we find out what Midori and Nao have been doing, why I have yet to bring Fumi into the fray, and sate the curiosity (my own, if no one else's) of what would happen when the counter clicks over to 0.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Chapter 14**

Midori ducked behind one of the stately trees surrounding the mansion. She'd asked around the campus trying to determine the Director's whereabouts, and the students had confirmed Fumi was away on business, which was annoying. No one else who could answer the pressing questions: why the Carnival hadn't ended as they'd all assumed, what had started the clock moving again? Did the hand moving signify the return of Queen of Hell? If the red star didn't hold the key to ending cursed fate, what was its purpose?

Her shin scraped against the undergrowth, and she bent over to rub her ankle. _Owie_. At least the Director's absence left her the opportunity to sneak into the familiar building and see what she could dig up. Slipping around the side, she peeked into one of the windows; the curtains hadn't been drawn. She pressed her palms against the glass, putting her body weight into the effort of gaining entrance, but the clasp stubbornly refused to snap, and she grunted, moving to the next window.

Leaves fell into her field of vision. She backpedaled in surprise, gasping as a lithe figure dressed in black lowered itself in front of her, curiously suspended upside down. A pair of burgundy eyes considered her, dark bangs tickling her fingers as the figure swayed, disengaged itself from the branch it had been hanging from and landed in front of her soundlessly. The figure brushed itself off, rising to its full height, still quite a bit shorter than the flame haired woman, and she realized who this was.

"Okuzaki-kun!" She laughed nervously, scratching the back of her head.

"Sugiura-sensei." Akira glanced from Midori to the window and back again. "You were trying to get in?"

"Ahhh, well you see, I was looking for the Director…"

"Himeno-sama isn't here. She isn't due back for another week."

"Ahh, is that so?" Midori blanched, trying to come up with some excuse that wouldn't involve campus security.

"They're all going to be locked. No one leaves first story windows open, unless they're careless. If you want to get into a locked building, start at the top and work your way down." The ninj-ette gave her a once over, showing how much she found to be desired by her mildly disgusted silence, and Midori looked down at herself – blue overalls, red high-top sneakers without socks – not really caring for the dismissive appraisal.

"What?"

Okuzaki sighed. "You're looking for information about the Carnival?" Midori debated whether or not it was a good idea to be so blatant about her agenda, was, in fact, still mulling over the necessity of omission when the black-clad figure leapt upward in an astounding display of gymnastic finesse.

"Wait here," the disembodied voice cautioned and the former teacher blinked, losing sight of the diminutive girl as she vaulted up to a third story landing. It was all so surreal, Midori wondered if she'd eaten a bit too much, fallen asleep under one of the giant maples dotting the campus, and would awaken later to find her pockets had been rifled through by the dregs of human society. _Not that they'd find much – how much does a bus pass go for on the black market these days?_ Dregs might be a bit harsh too – seeing as both Fuuka Academy and University were private learning institutions, Midori wasn't sure what percentage of the attending populace could accurately be deemed a 'dreg'.

Occupied with these introspections, the window in front of her opening inward, under the direction of the black clad figure's fingers, came as a mild shock, and she stared into the shadowed burgundy depths for several more heartbeats before climbing in to join the stealthy HiME. Midori came to the conclusion that two minds were better than one, and since Okuzaki had already offered her help, she couldn't afford to cast it aside.

"The clock – "

"Is still moving. I know. I've been following you around the campus. The hands moved again after you left."

_Damn._ "Did you want to take a look around inside? Maybe we can find something."

The ninj-ette shook her head. "No. I've got to take care of Takumi before I get any deeper into this mess. But… if you find what you're looking for, tell us. Tell all of us, Sensei. I have a feeling that fate getting impatient." The lower half of Akira's face was obscured behind cloth, but Midori was sure the younger girl was smiling. "Better to work together, isn't that what you said?"

The black clad figure jerked her chin towards the interior of the room. "The best hiding places are in plain sight."

Just like that, Akira slipped away, having moved too quickly for Midori, who was dutifully searching for obvious hiding places, to notice. "Wait! Damn." She leaned out the window, hoping her fellow HiME was within hearing distance. "Thanks. Take good care of Takumi-kun."

She sighed, eyeing the nearly endless rows of books, the pictures, the tables set into recessed nooks in the walls. It was going to be a long, long night.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Natsuki spent a good five minutes stretching before she decided to open her eyes. The room was immersed in blue-gray light, and she automatically glanced at the clock to see what time it was. After ten in the morning, long past dawn, and well before dusk. _Must be overcast outside._ Rainy days were sleepy days, and it wasn't as if she had anything better to do than roll around and enjoy Shizuru's fine linen – she was halfway into a sitting position before it occurred to her she wasn't wearing anything, and another second or so before she noticed the sandy-haired woman lying across the foot of the bed, watching her. It was just creepy the way Shizuru could completely mask her presence.

The sheet reached her navel, and she uttered a sound very much like a muffled squeak, grabbing the covering and reclining with such liveliness the entire bed vibrated with the motion. "O-oi, what are you doing?"

Unperturbed by her likewise unadorned state _naked, she's naked too_, the older girl blinked at her solemnly. "I was watching Natsuki sleep." It was phrased so matter-of-factly she couldn't really find anything to argue with, though mild disquiet rose with the words.

"Ano… watching?" _As in, passively, right?_ A small, undecipherable smile turned up the corner of Shizuru's mouth, and Natsuki leaned back further into the blankets – she wasn't positive, but she thought this one might be the harbinger of anger. It was impossible for her to read through the older girl's poker face, but she tried to soften the sting of her words by releasing her death-grip on the bedclothes.

"Was Natsuki hoping for me to do more than watch?" The tone was soft and teasing, and the younger girl blushed profusely, wondering if she'd completely misunderstood the nuance. _Maybe she's always had that pissed look in her eyes before she ribs me._

"No! No," the dark haired girl assured hastily. "I was just noticing that we're both…"

"Naked," her companion supplied helpfully.

Natsuki scowled, letting irritation displace her embarrassment. "Yes." Silence descended between them, leaving Natsuki feeling isolated in her discomfort – the Kyoto born woman seemed perfectly content to remain as she was, half-curled in feline relaxation as she regarded Natsuki with lazy, unblinking prerogative. She realized she was staring, that in fact, her glance had wandered away from the other girl's face, following the curve of the back.

The muscles coiled as the older girl shifted, and Natsuki's eyes widened, pushing herself back into the pillows as the woman crept _slinked_ closer. She held her breath as Shizuru hovered over her, not meeting her glance until their lips were almost touching. The raven haired girl's pulse raced in anticipation, drumming against the inside of her ears, but her lover remained stationary, neither advancing nor retreating. Natsuki struggled with her own impulses for a few seconds before she succumbed.

Shizuru brushed her lips over Natsuki's softly, whispering, "Good morning," and then she was gone, leaving the younger girl baffled as she lifted her fingers to her mouth, watching the tawny-haired woman rise and move across the room to the dresser. Shizuru opened the drawer, drew out a pair of panties, returning Natsuki's scrutiny as she watched them in the mirror.

"Such a sad expression. Does Natsuki wish to dress me?"

The younger girl groaned, pulled the pillow over her face to muffle the profanity _she's doing this on purpose, _refusing to dignify the question with an intelligible response.

Shizuru laughed softly, waiting until the sounds had tapered off before trying to coax the hermit from her hibernation. "Natsuki… come help me."

"No."

"Why?"

_Because I want to. _"Because you don't need any help, dammit."

"I didn't say I needed assistance. I asked because I enjoy having Natsuki near." Natsuki ground her teeth. Shizuru was using the wounded tone, as if she'd deliberately misconstrued the intent out of some incomprehensible obstinacy. Sighing in defeat, she wrapped the sheet around herself as she joined the sandy-haired woman, feeling awkward and amorous, and not knowing what to do with either emotion.

"Will you at least put some clothes on?" Shizuru didn't answer, merely pulled Natsuki's arms around her waist, resting her hands over the younger girl's as she stepped backwards into the embrace.

_Gah!_ _She's so infuriating._ It really did feel wonderful; ever so slowly, the tension melted away, and Natsuki lifted on her toes just enough to rest her chin on the woman's shoulder. Her eyelids drooped; she was still very tired, and somewhat aroused – the two merged into a sort of drowsy trance. She drifted, completely unaware of anything but the warmth of the woman in her arms, the expansion of the chest as Shizuru breathed, the arch of the other girl's back as she hunched down to match their heights as much as possible.

"Did Natsuki find what she was looking for?"

"Hmm? Oh, right. At my apartment. Yeah, I guess I did."

"Mmm." Shizuru quietly studied their reflections, allowing her beloved the space she needed, if she felt so inclined to share her discoveries. She wasn't perturbed by Natsuki's lack of communication – when she was ready, she'd talk about it. The arms around her waist tightened, almost painfully, and she wondered what thoughts were passing through her companion's mind – the younger girl's expression conveyed anxiety, but gave little clue as to its cause.

"Shizuru… what we did, that's… that's what you wanted, right?" Natsuki's eyebrows lowered as she blindly searched for the words she wanted to say. "No, I mean, that's what you wanted us to do – the kind of relationship … ah… love you wanted?"

"Yes. I've always hoped someday Natsuki would return my affections. That she would want to share her life and love and bed with me." An aggressive blush stained the younger girl's cheeks as she lowered her eyes, frowning. "Is Natsuki afraid I only wanted her for her body," Shizuru asked softly, smiling a bit as the other girl buried her face in Shizuru's hair. "I want to be with Natsuki forever."

Natsuki lifted her head, staring at the taller girl fiercely. "Yes. That's what I want – for you to stay with me forever. So…" _since we have the same kind of love_, "you have no reason to kill yourself."

"As long as Natsuki is with me – "

"No! That's not good enough. I'm not going to leave you, Shizuru. I never _was_ going to leave you. I always came back, didn't I? Sometimes I just need space." The raven-haired woman took a deep breath. "Just… don't do it. Or I won't forgive you." _Because… if anything happens to you,_ _I don't want to go on either._ She met the cinnamon shaded eyes, putting the strength of her emotion into the appeal. "Never again." _Please._

"Never again, Natsuki." Shizuru dropped the underwear she'd been holding, turning in Natsuki's arms, and loosened the sheet draped around the shorter girl. Looping the ebony tresses slackly between her fingers, she watched the younger girl's upturned face, enjoying the silky texture passing over her palms. She pulled herself closer by this ephemeral mooring, basking in the scent of dusty, rain dampened earth and unconscious longing; she held it within her lungs, as if she could merge with her love in mingled breath, cease to be what she was to become what they were, entwined. _Something in place of nothing._

Natsuki swallowed, trembling, trying to drag her eyes away from the meekly insistent fervor in her partner's stare. She tried to speak, but nothing approaching language emerged. She bit her tongue, trying to focus beyond the thrill of Shizuru bearing mute witness to her failed attempts. The older girl enjoyed this vie for dominance: stricture over abandon, distance over lust, affection over fearful distain – Natsuki could smell it, taste it, sense it from the movement of her limbs – and knowing made the battle that much more desperate. She retreated a step, two steps, and Shizuru followed, one for each of her two, tugged along by the hold on her hair. The bed blocked further retreat.

"Shizuru?" The question was timid, and she gathered her thoughts from their imagined union of respiration, wondering what she'd done to evoke fear. _Did I hurt her again? I can't remember._

"Yes, Natsuki?" Like warm water and velvet, Shizuru's words caressed her, proved an intimate working knowledge of her body as they coiled through her midsection, settled in the back of her throat, making it difficult to breathe.

"Nothing – it's nothing." The younger girl lifted her arms, draping them across her shoulders, and she smiled. _Yes, nothing._ She pulled Natsuki closer as they kissed, falling on top of her beloved in a gentle heap as they overbalanced, landing them on the bed.

"Shizuru! Don't… what…" Her voice failed her as her companion's affections stepped over the boundary separating nebulous from directed – she groaned, grabbing the pillow and crushing it in her fists. The remainder of her questions, her reservations, gathered themselves into one thought _why?_, repeating endlessly as she arched and writhed. She couldn't explain how this simple phrase purified and concentrated her apprehensions, what meaning or significance it might have, but it intruded itself into every gasp and cry, every embarrassingly sensual response she had to Shizuru's ministrations.

The younger girl whimpered as the maddening heat stole the last of her cognitive abilities, her lips forming the word on their own, given voice by the moan tickling from her lungs. "Why?"

The response was almost too soft to hear. "I love Natsuki _– _I will do anything she asks, give Natsuki everything she needs." _Whether or not Natsuki can bring herself to speak._

And this was so, she realized, just as she would do the same. _ What the hell. _Natsuki took the reins from outstretched hands, rolled on top of Shizuru, fulfilling both their desires.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nao scuffed her sneakers through the pebbles lining the parking lot as she left the tiny store behind. The heated can of coffee in her hands chased away the chill. She glanced up at the sky accusingly, as if there were someone present, someone within reach she could accost with her venomous contempt. She hated the rain, she hated being cold, she hated having nowhere to go. Most of all, she hated knowing nothing was ever going to change – that the positive words everyone kept shoveling on her were delusional bullshit. _The more things change, the more they stay the same. Amen._

A soft sound of mockery passed her lips. _Sister_. Sister was the last one that had attempted to move the mountain, plant a field of mustard seeds in the briar patch of her soul, console her. _Whatever._ She'd given lip service to the acts of forgiveness, even played dress up with Miyu _for all of three days_, wanting to see how far she could lead Sister's flock astray before she was kicked out. That had probably been a waste of time – the Catholic's God was a jealous god, a cunning little bastard. He had a way of testing people's faith, and conning them back for more. _I wonder if that makes me like one of Job's afflictions_. She smirked, pleased with the idea.

And Yukariko hadn't been the only one, of course. There was the psychotic, fashion challenged, sentai freak of nature. _I'll bet that woman was God's way of getting back at me._ Even so, as annoying as she'd been, as pure, dumb-blind and outrageously stubborn as she was, Nao had admired Midori. Lifting the coffee, she tried to swallow without burning the crap out of her mouth, frowning as she tried to remember the last bit of advice the spandex-worshiping Ranger-ette had whispered to her from infirmary bed. _'Those that reject love are often the ones who benefit most from continued applications,'_ or something like that.

She wondered why she would think of Midori now – like there was some cosmic connection between being dumped and helpless and slinking to her fellow redhead for company.

Nao had gone to visit Midori while they were both still trying to figure out what had run over their lives, after they'd both lost their various pissing contests to higher higher order matter materializers. _I still can't believe Mikoto thrashed her – half Midori's size and intellectually challenged._ "Huh." _Not like I have much to say in my own defense either, since Mount Fujino kicked me to the curb. Think I still have her boot-mark on my ass as a souvenir. _

They hadn't really commiserated, Nao wasn't open to that experience, but they'd talked to each other, Midori listening as the younger girl imparted her observations about the Festival. And Nao listened while Midori haltingly explained why these things were happening – what the likely outcome would be – how she'd failed to throw a wrench in the cogs. Her most precious person wasn't the only thing their self-proclaimed leader had lost – she'd also lost the light, the force of energetic rectitude shielding her from the wages of war. Even staggering under her own woes, Nao had felt a keener sense of injustice on Midori's behalf. _Gidget goes to hell._

So she'd stayed at their leader's side, curbing her natural distaste for wounded animals, watched the older woman struggle with her grief, the realization that each of them was alone in their defeat because… there was nothing left to cling to, not even the tattered scraps of what their lives had been before the Carnival swept them away. Nao wanted to call that emotion, that disconcerted sensation below her ribcage, pity, but it wasn't. It was compassion, something she hadn't felt in a long, long time. Her hands lifted as she watched Midori struggle to halt the useless tears, laying one hand palm to palm with the teacher's, and draping the other casually over their enjoined fingers.

And thus they'd stayed, a single, flickering flame of jade, quietly staring into twin peridot pools, each shying from their own misery in lieu of basking in the other's. Nao had marveled at her actions at the time – the empty eye-socket yawned with a smoldering, itching ache, her ribs were still bruised from being thrown off Julia, she felt claustrophobic, feverishly directionless without the ability to summon her Element, she had nothing left to live for, was the butt of everyone's jokes, and contempt. _Unfortunate little Nao, got lost along the way to vengeance. Didn't stand a chance, poor thing._ But all of that faded away when she saw _how much more_ what Midori had lost, and the ex-teacher was either smart enough, or too far-gone to harangue her with stupid, painful words, like asking if she was ok.

The good guys just didn't get it. Life kicks you in the face, and if you don't have the common sense to take your beating and stay down, it kicks you again. This will continue until you're dead _unlucky_, have swallowed most of your teeth _lucky_, or you gain the strength to wipe the blood off your face and kick back. Nao didn't bother any more. She ignored life completely, got her kicks in while it was busy burning ants off someone else's anthill. Yet this very lack, the inability to comprehend the nature of the world around them, how disgusting and conceited and malicious people were, made them heroic. In Midori's company, Nao had felt the breath of stirred echoes – the distant memory of hope.

Midori was broken; what had made her special was gone. It filled Nao with a seething fury, that circumstance wasn't content to just knock the shit out of the victims, and when Mai _the one person I despise more than Kuga _had walked in, wrapped in her aura of goody goody angst maiden, Nao had curled her lip in a sneer, dropping their leader's hand as she stalked from the room before princess martyr could hurt her again. She'd known Mai was going to ask how she was doing, if there was anything she could do to make up for… No, she didn't want to hear it, so she'd fled, snarling, intent on finding some small piece of the world she could wound on Midori's behalf.

When she'd seen the bullies harassing a mother and her child, her anger had overflowed, needing to prove to herself that she could make a difference, and she'd curled her fists, shouting at them to leave them _her_ alone. They'd shifted their attention, letting their previous playthings depart unmolested. _How stupid was I, rushing in like that, letting myself be cornered in the back of the alley._ She hadn't been the champion of justice, she'd been a chump, barely able to hold her own as they swarmed around her like roaches.

Nao grunted, dragging her thoughts away from the past, continuing to shuffle her feet methodically, forward, ever forward. _Like there is anything to go to._ She frowned, ran trembling finger through her hair, let her eyes drop, watching her feet as her fingers fiddled with the tab on the coffee can. She nibbled on her lip as she considered the facts: she was in love with a woman she both feared and respected. She knew this woman was tail over ears in love with someone else.

Nao wanted to be furious, to mar Fujino for her idiotic devotion to Kuga, for not being able to see… other opportunities. Nao was lonely and didn't have a place to stay, and some part of her, before she'd gone and slipped her tongue into the devil's mouth, had hoped for a renewed invitation to stay at the dorms, assistance in recompense for her tending of the wounded. _Not fucking likely._ Still, Shizuru had made such overtures before…

_No, goddamnit. I'm not going to go crawling back to her and beg._ Would Fujino require such obsequious contrition? The frown deepened, and she pressed the back of her wrist to her forehead, fingers flexing spastically. _Sometimes she does. Sometimes she turns on me when I displease her, and the chill leaves me shivering for hours._ But wasn't that only when Nao baited her? _Maybe. I can't remember._ She wavered, undecided. _No, better to stay away._ Kuga was shacking with Shizuru, and even the heady appeal of inflicting coyly modulated, guilt-ridden stabs at the raven-haired girl's fragile psyche couldn't overshadow the nausea at the thought of sharing a residence with the bane of her existence.

_So. Where to now?_ The redhead sighed, crushing the empty can in her hand and tossing it in a dumpster as she meandered through the deserted alley. _I have abso-fucking-lutely no idea._ She could go back to the house she and her mother shared, but that would remind her of two things she didn't want to think about – Fujino and her mother.

The thin drizzle which had, until this moment, merely hinted at the coming deluge, lost its patience. She was soaked in seconds, stumbled over the garbage strewn between the buildings. "Great. This was just what I needed. Fucking hate the rain."

An idea she hadn't entertained suddenly sprang to life, stopping her in her tracks. _I could join District. Tate all but laid out a red carpet for me._ "Huh." It _was_ an option. A place to stay, someone to support her _whose pants I'm not trying to get into_, a chance to get even with the other HiMEs when the big duke-out arrived. _Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven._ Her lip twitched in distaste. Fujino would despise her, then again, so would Kuga, and that almost balanced out. District might let her stay with her mother, wherever she was – they could be a family again. On the off chance she didn't feel like doing Tate's bidding, it would be easier to escape with her mother once she'd been welcomed into their midst.

'_What if another Searrs-like group appears? Can you take them on alone?'_ "Be quiet, I know what I'm doing." Nao stuffed her hands in her pockets, huddling as far out of the downpour as she could as she dug around in her pockets for her cell phone. She typed out a quick text message to one of her acquaintances, waited impatiently for the reply.

Thirty minutes later she had the information she'd requested _Tate Yuuchi, classified contact information as follows_, and she tried to call him, but there wasn't an answer. Leaving him a voice mail was risky, but all her phones were registered under other people's names: she didn't so much have wireless service as rely on the kindness of strangers. She slipped the phone back into her pocket, debating whether or not she should follow through. Nao hadn't really given Fujino the chance to accept or deny her affection – they did have _some_ kind of bond with one another, and Nao was a creature of predictable eccentricities, serving whatever served her best.

The redhead would follow the person offering the greater advantage, but she'd lose nothing by keeping her options open. Feeling better than she had since this whole mess started, Nao spun in the direction of the campus, ignoring the ceaseless rain.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dampened sunlight slanted into her face and she stretched, dislodging several of the books covering her. She sat up, scattering the piles surrounding her further, scratched her stomach, rubbed her cheeks briskly to wake herself up.

She'd searched every place she could think of last night, and gotten distracted at some point by the extensive libraries – there were at least nine rooms stocked from floor to ceiling with bookcases. Many of the titles were familiar, but some were so obscure she'd only heard them whispered by others in her profession – beautiful, leather bound tomes of rare knowledge, gold-edged pages winking at her in invitation, and she'd wined and dined them, ravishing them as they unfolded before her.

Midori pulled out her cell phone, checking to see how long she'd slept, and leapt to her feet, wide-eyed and apprehensive. "Eight already? Stupid stupid! I'm so stupid!" She'd done it again, abandoned her mission in lieu of the siren's tangent. "Damn." _I really need to learn to focus, grow up a little._ She decided that she would do just that, put all of her depthless enthusiasm behind this cause, stood for several moments in a determined pose of resolution. And then she realized this was just as much of a distraction from her goal as pulling the books from the shelves had been. _I have to stop introspecting about my personal failings._

She supposed she could continue looking for clues, but honestly, she'd already ransacked each room to the best of her abilities, finally winding up in the study, where she'd collapsed amid the tomes. Sighing, she gave the room another once over, only half paying attention, in hopes of spotting something she'd missed – her feet carried her over to the desk, uninterestedly scanning over the scattered papers. Expense accounts, scholarship applicants, neatly constructed in Fujino's unmistakable penmanship. _Scary how much Fuuka Gakuen relies on the Council President. I wonder what she's up to nowadays._ Obviously, still in charge of running things behind the scenes, assisting the university. And her position hadn't changed – Fujino was the first freshman Council President in the history of Fuuka University. _Driven. Very driven._

Midori had tried to get to know all of the HiMEs, of course, but Fujino had been a surprise from out of left field. A born diplomat with political influence, both inside and outside the Academy walls, raised in the traditional ways, to be a high-born lady of Kyoto. Master of the tea ceremony, flower arranging, ballet, calligraphy, cooking, watercolor painting, haiku. Charismatic, soft spoken, intelligent, excellent organizational skills. Perfect. They had nothing in common except Kuga and that was a tenuous connection at best – even after the Carnival, Fujino had been unerringly refined, accommodating, and as untouchable as clouds, hoarding the crescent moon. _Perfection always comes with a price._

Pushing aside the papers, she lowered herself into the high backed chair in defeat. "I just can't find anything." _'The best hiding places are in plain sight.'_ _Easy for you to say, ninja-wanna-be chick._ Was there someplace she hadn't looked? She tilted her head studying the desk. She'd snapped the locks on the drawers, rifled through the contents. All but one: the pencil drawer, rollout keyboard shelf thingy; she found what the expected to find – a computer keyboard. What she hadn't expected to find was a notebook, propping up the back of said terminal. A dusty, faded notebook with the kanji for Fuka emblazoned across the front.


	15. Chapter 15 : Event Horizon

**A/N:** Many thanks to all the wonderful people who cheered me on (pompoms not included, some assembly required – void where prohibited by common sense), those who updated their works, thus feeding my imagination (**EA Simpson, Lil-Donkey, Vega62a, inpassing, Uchiha-chan, Holly Warner, Sumiregawa Nenene, ArcaJeth, lonely bloodied rose, nakasoi115, Kryssa's flute**), and those who continue to find my writing worth recurring perusal. :o) _takes off hat and holds it in hand_ The nobility of your numerous sacrifices has not gone unnoticed.

On a special note – I wish to correct an oversight in my previous author's notes – **Eagle8819**, thank you again for your glowing recommendation. Please, allow me the privilege of returning the ball to your court: _Stain_ is intoxicating, and I've staggered around murmuring slurred passages of praise on more that one occasion.

**Alida: **Thank you for your comments! Alas, as a forthcoming email will explain, I've gone and done a rather foolish thing, to wit, there was much cursing, grousing and grumping to be herd. Still, I'm beyond flattered. _Bows_ I am humbled. ;o)

**xSojix:** Natsuki deserves every moment of teasing she endures (much like Folgers Crystals – she secretly enjoys it).

**ggtan: **Not a sin to remain silent. Definitely a sin to withhold Scooby Snacks. _Hugs_ Eeeee! I love hearing I'm gifted (preferably in some ways other than the 'short bus' sort of way). Thank you very much, pleased you liked it, hope to continue to live up to such glowing responses. Action is difficult, suspense is a bit less difficult, dialogue – well, all those hours I spent on the phone as a teenager were finally good for something. Nuts to you, Ma. Told you the phone bills were incidental. Was not an error. I really liked _Thank you._

**Kitsuki-chan: ** Thank you again. Hope the response wasn't too cumbersome.

**Teresa Kaiju: **_tilts head_ I'm glad that upon re-reading the thirteenth chapter, you found it more to your liking, though, I did not take your initial response in any but the most golden hued light. _Grins_ I agree – my muse often costumes itself in iambic pentameter. Forgive: laying aside lyrical oratory is painful to me. No apology necessary – I do love words. With a passion.

**Silent Ee:** _eats chocolate – curls up in your lap, tail over nose, to bask in scritches_ I wonder what Midori would do with the Grail? Natsuki being the pain in her own side – fitting. I whisper 'road' over and over again for no reason other than the extreme justice of vibration when one speaks it. 'Just how deep do you believe – will you bite the hand that feeds – will you chew until it bleeds'. Cabbages and kings; I look forward to it. :o)

**Mad Lethal Transsexual:** Fiddle me a tune half so glib as your conversation and I will happily follow you from Hamelin. I do believe he bit his thumb at them all. The balance is a razor blade smile. "… and in all the broad expanse of tranquil light they showed to me, I saw no shadow of another parting from her." Morning afters often make fine pets – most of them simply wind up in the doghouse.

**Nocturne:** Be patient with me… I'm slow. And getting on (in years, if not immaturity). And infirm. _Thinks_ Scratch that last one. :o) The pigeons are in the rafters, waiting in the pews. I'll send them on their way as soon as I can.

**b14ck-r053: **_grins_ Can I run around your house laughing too? Heroine, duly noted – a most perfect drug. _Portions out Scooby Snacks._ Thank you for being my heroine, literally as well as literally. Structure is good. _Ponders_ Need to change it so it reads more in the past tense – while Mai was alive… she hated Mai more. Kuga's had more time to hedge her out of the way. I like to tip my hat to all sorts of art forms (the only thing better than anime is furry anime). It may very well be in the Serenity way. We're even – your reviews make my day.

**Darkredeyes: **I like them reunited as well. Then again, I would, wouldn't I?

**Krampus: **_giggles_ Nao does deserve something – we still aren't sure what. I'm sure it will come to us. Wait and see; Nao hasn't fully emerged from the cocoon. _Laughs_ I think I still have one of those horns around here somewhere.

**Keili:** Really glad you were laughing. I like laughter. The Midori Nao section would have taken place (in the anime) just before Mai learned about what the Carnival entailed from Midori – everyone (still living) fell into a deep funk after losing. Good point about the adversarial inclinations. She hated Mai more while Mai was alive. _Hugs_ Thanks for wanting the show to continue.

**EA Simpson:** What a marvelous update it was! I agree. Naked Fujino equals 'I'm sorry, what was I talking about? Oh yes. We will do anything you want.' I can try to sand over the plot holes, but my filler may be no better than the gaps. Nao's…. er… reactions are in the next chapter. You have remarkably keen insights.

**Kiltmandu: **_hands out another portion of Scooby Snacks_ Windmill tilting is hungry-making work, sir knight. :o) Akira is the ninj-ette in waiting. I think if Nao joins District, Fujino's _foot_ will be the least of Nao's worries. Good muse. We couldn't finish without you.

**Detsuahxe:** Thank you for your comments! I'm always interested in learning the preferences of my readership. I'm glad at least parts were enchanting. _Cheers_ Here's hoping the rest of the story is just as palatable.

**Felisse:** Be it ball or butterfly, enchantment or misguided dove, I would be nothing without my something. Spin me a tale, tailsinger, and I'll yarn one in return.

**zelene2004: **It is, and it isn't. The things Midori knows, and the things Midori lets herself know are often different pages. This update was, if nothing else, a bit faster than the last. I was surprised Nao respects Midori as well – but she says she does, and I listen to the characters when they speak to me. I'm not sure if this is a good thing, or a bad thing.

This chapter is about the fine print, and why one should never sign contracts, even when they can clearly see the loopholes. It proves Smith is human. And, it offers up remuneration to the human condition, which is foible. A penny for your thoughts, a fortune for your soul. Enjoy, should it so move you, and moved by your movement, I will push on, one complex-compound-run-on-sentence at a time. Revel with me.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Chapter 15**

The blond haired girl studied the man across from her in silence, tangled in the web of truths he'd laid out before her. His words felt correct, yet she was dissatisfied with his conclusions, as if he'd biased his decisions on a form of intuition she was lacking, or were leapfrogging faith in situations where absolutes were the only surety of success. Alyssa was perfectly capable of making up her own mind, but her father had always been there to give her guidance, an outline to work within. Lacking this was troublesome.

It would have been more efficient if she'd made up her mind to simply do away with him for the nuisance he was, but her father had trusted Smith, had been the one that placed him in charge of the intelligence department to begin with – and although she'd always viewed him as a rather self-amused, disparaging messenger, she wasn't quite ready to abandon logic. Keeping him as an active, functional member of her entourage had too many benefits. Also, the snake hadn't lied – he'd simply resorted to an emphatic appeal to save himself. _From what? Dying?_

"How is Mr. Smith feeling?"

The androids lip twitched. "Physiological evidence suggests manufactured calm. Behavioral and psychological analyses support this theory. Mr. Smith is resigned."

_He expects me to kill him, or support him. How little he knows me._ The child stepped away from her guardian before speaking.

"Miyu, I believe Mr. Smith is in my seat."

The ice blue eyes widened, his body just beginning the motion of rising when Miyu plucked him by his tie, held him choking midair as she extended her arm, flung him into the wall across the room. The pain was exquisite, starting with his shoulder, raging across right side of his face, solidified into a sickening heat as he slipped to his knees, managing to bite back the scream only by the thinnest margin of willpower. His head swam.

"Is he going to live?"

"Target's shoulder and upper arm suffered reparable damage; his jaw was dislocated. Minor bruising to the last four ribs on his right side. Target is subdued. Shall I continue?"

The blond giggled softly, as if she were pleased but slightly embarrassed by the method her guardian chose to use to evict him from 'her seat', and he held his arm watching the child settle herself in the leather chair, kneeling in the Chairman's position. Miyu stood just in front of the desk, facing him with an all too eager look on her face, and he grunted. _So. Miscalculated again._

"I don't think Mr. Smith wants this seat any more, do you?" She eyed him curiously, in that way all children looked up at adults when they were asking impossible things: _why can't you bring back the dead? why can't I stay up longer? why can't I take the company from you?_, and he laughed, thinking Foundation's little Frankenstein, his personal Achilles heel, truly had come home to roost.

"Completely unnecessary. I am delighted to assist you in your endeavors… Miss Searrs."

The Golden Angel's smile brightened, motioning Miyu to assist her new subordinate upright. The muscles across his stomach trembled as he accepted the automaton's outstretched hand, hissing as he was coaxed to stand. He leaned on Miyu's arm for a moment, trying to catch his breath, noticing she really was a marvel. The skin was warm and resilient, felt toned, but not unpleasantly muscled under his fingers.

His hand compressed as he forced himself to straighten his back, thinking it was odd that the harder substance beneath that tissue was not truly flesh, just as the skin was not truly skin, and the superstructure housing the fiberoptic neural network was metal, not bone. Miyu's body, for lack of a better term, was nothing more than an elaborate ventilation and heating system for the experimental radioactive isotopes she used as both power supply and reservoir for her matter transmutation abilities. In this regard, she was the exact opposite of a human. The friction of movement enabled her processes to continue – if the android remained dormant for too long, she would go into standby mode until sufficient energy was applied.

Smith coughed, trying to keep his attention focused beyond the ever-growing discomfort, releasing the robot's arm. He wasn't bothered by his demotion – his place in the hierarchy within the organization was meaningless. As long as he could effect change, nudge events into the proper mold, he was content. Miyu injected him with painkillers and he relaxed.

"What is our highest priority?"

"Obtaining Sanada Yukariko's infant. I would recommend pulling the field agents off this task immediately, and seeing to it yourself – it was what I was going to ask. There is a higher percentage of success, and we need the girl alive."

"Why?"

"As the last living descendant, maintaining the viability of this bloodline is critical. Ishigami is on the run with her. He needs to be eliminated – he's still an agent of District. In all likelihood, he'll want to exchange the child for his own safety – if he feels this is no longer an option, he'll destroy our prize. We can't allow this. The girl's genetic information is vital, and we need its living host to further our research."

"We don't need the HiMEs alive."

"No, we do. As many of them as we can save. I'm not even sure if we will be able to alter the outcome of what's going to happen – we haven't been able to in the past. But, please, believe me. Cloning isn't reliable. We'll be lucky if we can clone the ones already dead."

Alyssa frowned warningly; she didn't like being contradicted – she didn't like it at all.

"You are a clone, Miss Searrs. One of many attempts, and the only successful. None before you, and none after, manifested higher order matter. If all it took was dead DNA, you would have had a score of sisters."

Across the desk, Alyssa's gaze landed on Miyu. The only one she could trust.

Miyu watched, nodded once. "Ojousama. These facts are accurate. His information is incomplete, but my data analysis is in concurrence. It would be of benefit to obtain the infant intact."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When she was younger, they'd called her a mouse – a small, rather deleterious creature which scurries behind the walls – a nudnik, a midge. Worse. A coward. Yukino was very much her namesake – mouse brown hair, mousy appearance, mouse-like habits. The better part of her youth had been spent hiding; from the bullies, from her parents' expectations, from her brilliant brother and his brilliant academic carrier, his brilliantly burning life that flickered away into pretermission when she was seven, and he was seventeen – the ten years separating them was forgotten in an instant of scandal, he the unwed father of a child; he and his child bride were shuttled as far away from implications of impropriety as was possible, never to be mentioned again. "Why can't you be more like your brother?" had changed to "If you lose your virginity before you are married, we will disown you." She'd kept the promise she made to her mother – she hadn't lost her virginity to a boy.

Sometimes she despised her brother for being so bright a burning star, winking out before she understood what it would mean to take his place. And she never had taken his place, not truly – she was shy and bookish, and easily cowed, as unfit to carry on the family name as he who would no longer be named. That was the year she'd met Haruka, and things had slowly changed for her. Not a leader by nature, she could support others, her other, with every ounce of her being, and thereby claim some measure of triumph. She loved those moments – when she could bask in the eclipse of the golden haired Amazon's success – it didn't bother her to remain in the shadows; it was cool, and reassuring, with Haruka's hand forever encircled her wrist, pulling her behind like a beloved stuffed animal.

Finding out that she was a HiME was, without a doubt, the most disturbing event in her life – she was not worthy of saving the world. Furthermore, it was a responsibility for which she was unequivocally unprepared. It had terrified her, moreso when she realized her relationship with Suzushiro would be forever altered by this singularly unkind twist of recessive genealogy.

Contrary to what the others had shared with her of their 'awakening', Nagi hadn't been her indoctrinator – Mashiro had. One year before the Carnival, Kazahana-sama had politely requested her presence, and during the course of that horrific conversation, the soft-spoken Director had informed her something wonderful was about to happen, something that would change her life, hopefully for the better. In the time since, she'd wondered why _how_ Mashiro could have possibly known she was one of the maidens, but like so many things in her life, she hadn't mustered the courage to ask.

Her only clue in this direction was something Fumi-san had whispered to her at graduation: _You should be proud of your achievements – Mother loved all her children, but she watched over the meek with special consideration._ A puzzling statement, she'd never really understood. To her mother, she was an embarrassment, not only a failure, but a lesbian as well, thus dashing all hope of marrying the mouse off and gaining grandchildren that could make up for the sibling catastrophes of scandal and inadequacy.

Haruka's family, much more prestigious than her own, had accepted their relationship good naturedly, after they'd been forcefully _loudly_ reminded they had no choice in the matter – once the Amazon's mind was made up, it stayed made up. It was a relief to Yukino, and to her family – at least they could share their disgrace with those of greater fortune, and that was a source of comfort; her mother reminded her of this again as she spoke into the phone, trying her hardest to be polite and listen. It became increasingly difficult to concentrate, and she begged her mother's forgiveness, hanging up in the middle of a stiff, somewhat trivializing comment about her lack of occupation.

The headaches were getting worse. She suffered frequent nosebleeds as well, which she tried to hide from her partner as best she could – she didn't want Haruka to insist she go see a doctor. They wouldn't be able to help any more than the sleeping pills, the tranquilizers, the migraine medication, the iron supplements. The pain had gotten steadily worse, from the moment Kuga had shown up at their doorstep, and she'd been doing her best to put off the inevitable, because it was better that way. Trying to explain that she was descended from a long line of digi-destined 'Sailor Moon' hybrids, and as such her physiology was completely different, never seemed to go over well with the medical community.

Of course she saw the pattern in these events. This wasn't the first time she'd been complexly swallowed by her fear, suffered from this esoteric malaise in which each moment, perfectly crystallized in terror, manifested in her life. She pushed her glasses further up her nose, listening to the sounds of Haruka as she got ready for work, and cursed herself for cowardice. She would once again try to convince her lover that she needed her to stay home, to protect her from the obligations of a denied past, and like the previous mornings, her irrational concerns would be brushed aside for the nonsense they were.

She knocked on the bathroom door softly. "Please stay home."

The door opened and a pair of unsympathetic lavender eyes greeted her as she silently begged. "What's gotten into you? You know I can't skip work every time you get like this, especially when you won't tell me what's wrong."

"Haruka-chan, I don't know what's wrong. I can't explain it. Please stay."

Haruka folded her arms around Yukino tightly, kissed her forehead. "That's not good enough. I can't afford to lose my position this close to election, and it's my responsibility to support the campaign, to set an example for the rest of the interns as a role model. If I don't take my duties seriously, I wouldn't be fulfilling the expectorations I accepted when I took the position."

"Expectations," Yukino murmured softly, not bothering to look up. There wasn't any point – she wasn't going to be able to sway Haruka. She doubted anything she might say would make a difference.

Haruka tipped the tousled, brown-haired woman's face up to meet her searching glance. "Yukino, if something's bothering you, tell me. I've told you this before. Keeping quiet doesn't make it any easier for me to understand. Unless I know what's going on, nothing is going to change." Yukino uttered a small, frightened sound, and for a moment the blond was sure her lover was going to flinch, step out of her embrace, but apparently she wasn't brave enough to do that, either. Haruka frowned impatiently, not sure which she disliked more – being ignored, or the meek, victimized passivity the girl shielded herself behind when she didn't want to deal with the world.

When had she seen this behavior pattern before? It had been a long time now – Haruka encouraged her mate to stand up for herself, make her own decisions whenever she could. Yukino chose the very worst moments not to do as she was told. She grunted, trying to place the exact time there'd been a noticeable difference in the younger girl's attitude. This foolishness had all started when…

"Does this have something to do with that bubuzuke woman?" Her words had come out sharper than she intended and the woman in her arms trembled, closing her eyes. "Answer me. Yukino!"

The brunette curled in on herself, manufacturing an unconvincing smile. "No, it's nothing. I'm sorry, Haruka-chan, I'm just being silly. I didn't mean to worry you."

"That's a yes." Haruka's frown blossomed into a full-fledged scowl. She had no idea what Fujino had done to her Yukino, but she had every intention of finding out. "I can't stay with you, but I'll be back as early as I can. When I get home, we're going to have a long talk, and you're going to explain everything to me." _And then I'll call that woman and give her something to worry about._

"Y-yes. Of course." _I'm sure I can think of something between now and then, something plausible, can't I?_ Yukino resisted the temptation to cross her arms over her chest, settling for bunching her hands together at her waist as she nibbled on her lip worriedly.

"I don't like it when you act like you're afraid of me." _No, she never did._ "Yukino." Haruka's tone was less confrontational, gentler, kinder, and when lips brushed over hers she relaxed a bit, returning the kiss. "I'd stay if I could. You know that."

"Yes." _I know that._

"You believe me, don't you?"

"Mmm." She dropped her eyes again, unwilling to vocalize her privation in the face of adamant refusal. _I know you think I'm being selfish and immature – and that's the reason you're putting your job ahead of me. Even though I really need you._

Haruka sighed, picked the girl up, raised her to her feet and walked them back into the bedroom, set her on the edge of the bed, squatting in front of her. "If you need anything, if something happens, call me, and I'll come home."

Yukino looked up, surprised – this was a major concession, a compromise – something which was difficult for her golden haired juggernaut. She hesitated. "Really?"

Haruka smiled, nodding affirmation. "Really. I do love you. You just make it incredibly difficult for me sometimes."

"Oh. Difficult to love me?"

"No. Difficult for me to go to work. Especially when you smile." Haruka slipped the glasses off her nose, folded them into her hands, waiting expectantly, and she blushed, smiling. She was rewarded with a much longer, lingering kiss. "Thank you. Listen, Yukino, remember what I said – I hate cowardice; if you're going to be my partner, you have to be honest with me. All right?" She swallowed and nodded, because that was what Haruka wanted, and she always tried to provide immediate gratification when her stormy companion managed negotiation. The tough love approach wasn't the most endearing, but as long as they both tried, she was willing to accept whatever kind of love Haruka was able to give.

She followed Haruka to the living room, raised her hand in parting as the door closed, watched her partner slide into the front seat of their car and drive away. The curtain fell back into place and she buried her head in her hands, sobbing as the effort to appear unconcerned disintegrated under the strain of sustaining itself. The room crowed stiflingly close, and Yukino backed into the corner, lifting a hand to scatter the shades like frightened birds, screaming accusations as they wheeled high above.

_Down, down to the sunless sea._ Pressing her hands together in front of her face, she battled with the memories as they merged, blurring, fell apart once more, flung like drops of blood from the force of her violently shaking head. It was not her time – she refused her past, she refused the envisioned what ifs, and yet the shadow puppets craved their audience. She whimpered, sliding down the wall, curled into the tiniest corner she could manage as Mai danced her death throes, impaled on the ends of Diana's will. Yukino retched.

And _Mikoto _the child who was her master's dog buried the sword deep within her chest, left her marveling, dying alongside the maiden she'd slain, that the ebony blade had a pulse of its own. _Mine_, she realized, _we're connected._ The black shape holding Mikoto's leash tilted its head back and laughed – a sound of not one, but many – yanked the creature to heel, and the image of herself lifted a gore covered hand, begging to be left in peace. _Please_. The figure smiled, turned flickering, torchlight eyes upon her, like master, like servant, and released his pet.

Yukino fell on her side, digging her nails into her scalp as the play repeated behind her eyes.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Youko stumbled up the stairs to her apartment. As she reached for the handle, she noted blearily that the door was unlocked, the flowerpot she hid her spare key underneath turned upside down. She leaned her weight against the door, kicked it closed behind her and slipped her shoes off. Her head was killing her, and it felt like roadkill had crawled into her mouth to die. The lights were on, making her squint to shield her eyes from the stabbing glare. _I drank too much. Mental note – alcohol and sunbathing don't mix._

She staggered into the bedroom, completely ignoring the strew of papers fluttering around her as she thumped into the welcoming sheets. Flopping onto her back, she managed to struggle out of her pants, awkwardly peeling them off with her toes; she attempted to unbutton her shirt, but gave up half way through. Her stomach roiled uncertainly, and she pressed her palm against her forehead until the swimming sensation lessened to the point she could move once more.

_What's with all the papers, anyway?_ Too tired to pay attention, she fell face first into the pillow, mouth agape. Turning her head to the side, she peeked with one eye. She was lying on something tasting suspiciously like skin. _Fuck it. I don't care._ Youko snored, not minding that the object under her face flexed.

"Oi, you're drooling on me. That's gross, cut it out."

Midori pulled her hand away from the snoring brunette, sleepily trying to wrest a portion of the blanket from the other person in the bed. She drifted, her eyes fluttering closed. The warm covering disappeared again and she tugged it back, uttering a surprised yelp as a pair of cold feet evicted her from the bed. The redhead landed on the floor with a loud thump, and she rubbed her head.

"And this is why I don't sleep with you."

"Good."

"When did you get home?" Midori yawned, wondering when she'd fallen asleep. Some hours before, she suspected. Trying to decipher ancient Chinese was taxing, but she'd made some progress, managed to fill in the gaps Fumi hadn't been able to translate. The notebook didn't contain what she'd thought – not a diary _daily planner of supernatural events_, but actually Himeno's endeavor to interpret a larger, unknown work. The Director had circumspectly copied excerpts from this source material, then haphazardly translated them, adding notes in the margins with further speculations.

She hadn't taken the time to ponder the meaning of the passages – she'd been too intent on making corrections. It would have been easier if the story had been written in Japanese, even archaic kanji. As it was, she'd been reduced to scouring every resource she could think of – books and websites, a few phone calls and faxes to the archeology department. Not even the professor, whom she'd woken up by the tired sound of his voice, had been able to give her a definite answer on two of the symbols.

Youko was too deeply asleep to answer, and Midori shook her head, gathering up the efforts of her research, stuffing them back in the notebook.

"Yo, I'm going to take a shower." A pillow smacked her in the face, and she grinned.

"You're being too loud. Go away if you aren't going to be quiet."

"Drank too much?" A second pillow followed the first and Midori laughed, tossed it back. "Ok. I took the spare key. If I'm not here when you wake up, that's where it went. I'll fix you some of my hangover remedy, and put it in the fridge."

"All right."

"You don't mind if I stay here, right?"

"Would it matter?"

"No. I can't afford a room."

"Then go take your shower; let me sleep. Some of us have to work for a living."

The redhead hesitated before heading into the bathroom. "Youko, has anything strange been going on?"

The figure on the bed hunched her shoulders in consternation, shifting to her side as her eyes opened. "Like my ex-roommate showing up unannounced, breaking into my apartment, hogging the covers and keeping me awake?"

"I wasn't hogging the covers." Youko wondered how the flame-haired woman could keep the telltale humor from coloring her words, and they stated at one another mutely for several seconds before she lost her temper and gave Midori 'the eye'. Midori smiled at her tiredly and she relented, sighing.

"Reito came to visit me few days ago. No one told him about the dorm fire – he was convinced his sister had invited him back to Fuuka."

_Reito._ Touchy subject. Midori didn't bring up the obvious – Sagisawa hadn't mentioned Minagi's return in her phone call, only the mysteries surrounding Okuzaki's _less than legal_ acquisition of certain death records. She was tempted to ask if the rest of the HiMEs were also in Fuuka, but there's no way the nurse could have kept track of everyone – and it would make her suspicious.

_The Return of Kokuyou no Kimi._ Sounded like a three am monster marathon movie. "Isn't that strange – for no one to tell him his relative was dead?"

The brunette gave up on her long awaited nap, sitting up and running her fingers through her hair. "Yes, it is. I was thinking the same thing, but he mentioned traveling… it's possible he has an unwelcome letter waiting for him in the dead letter office. I don't know."

_Or maybe he's here because the Carnival hasn't fully accepted defeat._ "Yeah. Did he mention where he was staying?" Midori smiled appeasingly as her friend shot her an acidic _like I'd care _stare. _He didn't mention and I didn't ask._ "Right. Sorry." She resumed her trek to the bathroom.

"Things are going to get weird again, aren't they."

_You have no idea._ "I hope so. You don't think I came all the way back here just to get kicked out of your bed, did you?"

"Yes." The redhead blinked a few times before bursting into laughter, and Youko joined in. _The weirdness begins – when the hell did she get a sense of humor?_

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tate tapped the end of his pencil against the long table as the meeting continued, not really concerned with what was being discussed. He found himself caring about less and less as the days went by – a change from his earlier conviction his feet were irrevocably carrying him along the correct path. It wasn't that he felt anything of importance had changed, that he'd been duped or misled. More that the further along the course he'd chosen to travel, the more difficult it became to retain any sort of emotional connection to his surroundings. _The mind becomes inured to suffering, it's a self-defense mechanism._

It really didn't matter what they said, or what conclusions they came to. They hadn't listened to him, and now they were hopping from one foot to the other, trying to pick up the pieces. Yet he felt no validation, no superiority for being right when they were proven wrong. That gave him comfort, a weak reminder of flagging humanity. Still, if they had taken his advice, none of this would have happened – and they wouldn't have pissed away their only chance to get Kuga and Fujino. Of course, it wasn't entirely their fault – not even he had any idea why Fujino had taken the offensive.

At first, he'd suspected Yuuki had betrayed them, convinced the pair to lend their support in retrieving her mother, but, while Yuuki had predictably poked into their secure files, Fujino hadn't asked any of the soldiers about Nao's mother. She had only inquired about Kuga, and what they had done with her. Tate had watched the surveillance video over and over again, trying to puzzle out that mystery – he could only assume Searrs had nudged the unstable one over the edge, and she'd skipped stones through the puddles of blood left in her wake. And then Kuga had shown up, and they'd lost their chance as some nameless grunt _committed suicide _opened fire on her .

Better to have 'surrendered' to Fujino, bared their throats to the demon. The Japanese military was a joke – no armed force that he could imagine was a match for a pissed off, maniacal HiME, let alone two of them. Three if you counted Nao, but she hadn't been there to fight. She wouldn't want to put her mother in jeopardy. And now, the best they could hope for was that their fortifications would protect them long enough to find some other method of control. Being on the defensive was not a safe place to be, for any of them.

Akira seemed like she'd be a viable target, but no matter how many times he suggested they bring Takumi in, they dismissed his recommendation, saying it was too big of a risk – Tokiha was fragile and if anything were to happen to him, they'd have not only Okuzaki as an enemy, but her familial organization as well. In his mind, that made Takumi the perfect candidate, as it would make rescue attempts less of a problem – the boy would be just as likely to die being saved as he would if their orders weren't carried out. Tate frowned – resentment mingled with irritation. His superiors had no compunctions about ordering him to gain Higurashi, by whatever means necessary.

"Lieutenant, we're not boring you are we?" The tone was gruff, unmistakably provoking and he leaned back.

"A little, yes. But please, continue."

An uncomfortable silence rippled through the assembled officers. "You're excused from the meeting. Wait for me in my office."

He rose and bowed respectfully, exited the room without a backwards glance. It was a relief to be away from the stuffy, inanely bureaucratic atmosphere. He limped through the hallways, ignoring the whispers, stepped into his superior's office, shut the door behind him as he sank into one of the two chairs on the receiving side of the desk.

He rubbed his aching knee, thinking over what events had transpired, what decisions he had made that led to his current situation. Tate was fairly sure he knew what his superior was going to say, and he had no clue how to respond. Responsibilities, loyalties had always been his biggest stumbling block. _Like Shiho, like Mai. Leaving Mai behind to look after Shiho, leaving Shiho behind to save Mai, condemning both to purgatory- the castration of ungratified fate. Why? What's wrong with me? I loved Mai, but I couldn't push Shiho away – she needed me._

_The door._

There was a sno-globe on the commander's desk, and he reached to pick it up, turned it over his hands, followed the falsely billowing swirls of snow. Spin, duck, turn.

_Opening the door. Walking up the stairs, listening to the sounds of an argument._

He continued tipping the globe over in his hands.

_I wondered what Shiho was doing here. I know we'd been arguing more recently – maybe she'd come here to get away from me, or to get away from herself. But she wasn't alone. I stumbled up the stairs, rushing once I recognized the second voice._

"_It was always you."_

"_I don't think that's the reason. Why we can't be friends?"_

"_Liar!"_

"_I know you think you're the only one suffering, but I'm hurting too."_

"_LIAR!"_

He shook the globe violently, noticing the flakes moved with no greater speed for the force of his movements.

_I started running, ignoring the stitch in my side, wanting to get there in time. Please, let me get there in time. The third floor tiles were still slick from being mopped, and I skidded into the wall, gripped it for support, pulling myself along._

"_You're so selfish, why can't you listen to what anyone else is trying to tell you! I'm doing the best that I can for everyone. You think I haven't made sacrifices? I pushed Reito away, I've made excuses for you, tried to give you the time you wanted with Yuuichi. I can't handle it any more. Everyone wants something from me, give me a break already." No matter how much she offers, it's never enough._

"_Bitch. He was mine, and you took him away. Give me time with him? It's not your time to give!"_

"_What do you want from me?"_

His hand was shaking, and he clenched his fist, not wanting to drop the object.

_I knew what she wanted – careened around the corner, hoping she wouldn't answer._

"_Onii-chan is mine."_

_I listened to the snarl in her voice and screamed. "Shiho no!"_

_Her eyes sought mine out as I skidded to my knees, pushed by something behind me, something strong and feral, something roaring, a black-haired demon dragging her sword behind._

_Mai's back was to me, and I grasped that demon as it blurred past, trying to get to my feet. My hand caught the hem of her nightshirt, pulled taut, dragged me forward, and I lost the ability to breathe as she spun to glare at me, fixed me with that inhuman stare – the blazing yellow-golden hearths of her eyes were almost completely swallowed by darkness of her irises, expanded to catch the light, reflecting it back in a flash of green. _

_Mikoto lifted me off my feet, tossed me casually into the wall with a gentle flick of her wrist._

_I wrapped my arms around my chest as my lungs compressed from the force of hitting the wall, blinded by the involuntary tears._

_That was all it took. No, Mai, don't turn… _

His arm throbbed, palm flaring with pain as the base of the decoration bit into the skin, cutting off the circulation to his fingers.

_One moment to determine the course of fate. Shiho's lip curled as she spat the venom in my direction._

"_Onii-chan, you're so cruel." She pulled the flute to her lips, and the sounds ripping through my skull laughed and cried at the same time._

"_Shiho!"_

_Mai's profile as her torso completed its twist, shifting her weight from her left foot to her right. Divided attention. No, don't take your eyes off her, she's going to kill you this time!_

"_Tate?"_

"_Mai!"_

"_I hate you… I hate you all!"_

_The black figure rose behind the smaller form that had summoned it, unfurling wings of the darkest resolve, maggots half-choking the screech as its beak snapped, rending the air._

_I was frozen in place, waiting for the inevitable, mouthing meaningless warnings as I pointed frantically._

_Mikoto shifted her grip on the blade, hips swaying as she tensed for the leap. Mai's scream as the beak descended, gouging her shoulder as she fell, one hand raised to ward off the second blow. The black blade whistling as it rose, beating the creature back._

"_Mikoto! No!"_

_The demon pausing, mid-stroke, teeth bared._

_Laughter. "Kill them! Kill them all!"_

_The demon stumbling back, clutching her stomach as the Child's talons raked into yielding flesh._

"_Mikoto!"_

_Their faces were the same in that moment – the same look of murderous loathing, mouths matched in their grimace of killing intent, one bathed in moonlight, the other bathed in blood seeping from her wound._

"_Kagutsuchi!"_

"_Mai! NO!"_

_Stop, everyone stop! The air shimmering with heat, burning away my insides as the wrath of god rose from the fallen HiME's blood, turning gore to ash as it spread its wings, flexed, steam flowing between its teeth._

_The figures clashed, two giant birds of prey, one crimson white, the other ebony violet, and I crawled forwards, wanting to pull everyone out of the way. I had Mai in my arms, dragging her away, and Mikoto grabbed my wrist, twisted it savagely. I heard things break, drew back my fist, watching the yellow-golden eyes widen in surprise, narrow in rage as the strike claimed its mark, splitting my knuckles as our blood mingled._

_Another ear-numbing howl as the battle was decided between heartbeats – the crow fell back, one wing dangling uselessly from the fire-god's claws. And the laughter continued, raked over exposed nerve-endings. I screamed as Child turned on its master, screamed as the black feathered head descended, crushing the back of her skull, again… and again… again._

_The fire-god belled in victory._

"_Kagutsuchi!"_

_Mikoto had my hair in her hands, fist raised and I flinched, not knowing whom Mai was turning her beast on._

"_Mai! Stop that thing. It's going to kill her!"_

"_Mikoto! Stop…"_

_The demon was beyond caring. The fist fell as the world was consumed in a vortex of wind. I didn't notice. I shook Mai. "Stop it! Stop it!"_

_Too late. I was always too late._

_The last words I heard were from Mai. "Save him."_

_The last sound I heard was Mikoto's scream of fury as she tossed me out the third story window. _

The aftermath had been shadowed in pain. He regained consciousness, noticed figures dressed in black fatigues struggling to put out the flames. A spill of red hair peeked from one of the body bags and he staggered closer, dragging his useless leg behind him, lost in a daze of shock. He wasn't sure which name he'd been mumbling as he struggled in the arms holding him back.

Glassy eyes staring sightlessly up at the sky. The cries of the students. The Student Council President's distinctive lilt as she argued with the men around them. Natsuki's face as she turned towards him, wiping soot across her cheek – silently demanding answers he couldn't provide. Ordered chaos. The funeral. Tears. Takumi's face as he sat with him during lunch the day after. The look of disgust on Okuzaki's face, accusing him, branding him for the coward he was.

The door opened and Tate gave the sno-globe a final shake before setting it back on the desk – a present from the commander's niece, or so he'd once been told.

"You know what I'm going to say."

"Yes."

"She's your responsibility, Lieutenant, I shouldn't have to remind you of that. We need her to be functional. We have to be prepared."

His lips pressed together. "There has to be another process. If you give me more time, I'm sure I can find a way –"

His superior shook his head. "That's not possible. I've given you months, and we always come back to the same obstacle. We can't remove Kazuya Kurauchi from her memory – no matter how far we strip her psyche, no matter what substitutes we offer her."

_One moment to decide fate. _

He slammed his hand on the edge of the desk, standing swiftly. "I don't want this responsibility! Why can't you understand that? I've done everything you asked me to. I killed a good friend, subjected his girlfriend to torture, pain, affliction, took responsibility for reprogramming her to become our tool. Involved civilians… This isn't why I joined District!"

"Sit down!"

He sat.

"I understand how you're feeling. The reason you're here, the reason you joined this department was to protect the innocent from those who cannot control their power. I'm asking you to fulfill this mission. Higurashi can't help being a threat, none of the HiMEs can. That's why we need to take the steps necessary to help them.

"If you are unwilling, or unable to do this, we will take measures to assure she can never hurt the populace. We will find someone else to take Kazuya's place in her memories."

The commander sighed, straightening the folders strewn over his desk before continuing. "Another person, someone who didn't know the boy, is going to have difficulty maintaining the illusion for Higurashi. If she can't be managed, she will be removed. Do whatever your conscience dictates; you have twelve hours to decide. Dismissed."

The blond haired boy glared at his superior, the muscles in his jaw climbing over one another as he saluted. _One moment to decide fate. The moment I always miss._


	16. Chapter 16 : In Remembrance of She

**A/N:** I suppose I should start with an apology, but I can't think of anything to say. _-fidgets_- And the longer I sit here, lamenting my lack of interesting anecdote, or scintillating commentary to defer my guilt, the more hang-dog I become.

So, sufficed to say, the composer of this fiction has taken up near permanent residence in the doghouse, and regrets being at the whim (nay, the mercy) of recherché wit, by this statement proved: had I a pound for every inch that I strove (in vain! in vain!), it would likely explain why a white whale has taken over my bed (away with you and your boorish words), berates me for my lack of krill (if one is going to invent a rather large, ludicrous metaphor for the enormity of one's failure, you'd think said person would have the spare time to invent its food as well), and continues to bogart the keyboard (just sit there and jiggle the mouse; it's not like you were using the computer for anything _productive_). _-socks Melville in the jaw-_ Cheeky bastard.

In retrospect the time spent in denunciation seems trivial, and yet, even trivialities have their effects – words bring a joy, a boon, a blessing all their own. Mired in despair, they speak for us. Verging on hysteria, they can calm, or send us spinning into their frenzy. Words convey, in so many ways, that which only music speaks to me. In the language of silence. In the speech of raw and ragged and untempered tempest bound. In the heart, in the soul, in the mind – it touches that place so few mediums can truly communicate between – the vastness of emotion. _"(i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands"_

So. I have not completely atrophied in mental faculty, however much it chagrins me to confirm. It would be simpler if I'd suffered a blow to the brainpan, and could claim once and for all, in honest charity, ignorance was _at long last_ bliss. _-coughs softly-_ But alas, as far as rampant petitions for remission go, the "Would that I be struck as useless as I feel, and then I would be free" line of whines is both over-rated and self-infatuated. _-smiles_- I know my faults well, and will, under duress, even admit to harboring not only these fugitives, but the rest of populace of 'Bugger Me!!!!' land to boot.

_-takes a deep breath and exhales slowly_- This is my best, the most heartfelt gesture I can convey, as a peace offering, as thanks: in humility I come, hat in hand to offer up another miniscule banquet for those of you still following the tale. It is what I had hoped it would become (this chapter, not the story; I've yet to see if flesh will bear the bone structure I've in mind). With patience and frustration, with consternation and long-suffering, rant-fueled, restless nights, with the help and assistance of those who bore me up and drew me alive again from the waters of banality… with gratitude, numb relief and terrified, insecure delight I can say the months spent weeping the words from my intractable muse have finally breathed life into something approaching continuation.

I thank everyone who reads, and reviews – you are the pulse by which we move. I adore those who adore, and commiserate with those who wonder what I'm on about. Special thanks to those that prompted me during the trance:

**b14ck-r053:** My reply must have left you scratching your head – seeming flippant at best and completely daft at worst. It is in my nature to be easily entranced, which is exactly what I was. I am desperately in love with my own ineptitude. The best things in life are a struggle. The best things in life are a struggle. The mantra finally worked. _-hugs_- Forgive me. I have not forsaken, merely gotten lost along the way.

**Alida:** That was the nicest, most creative, most warm fuzzy inducing parallel piece of artistry I've ever had the pleasure of being the inspiration for. I did not miss it, though I was a remiss in not bouncing around with you long… long ago. _-smiles_- It made me big, big happy. Draw more, if it strikes your fancy, and share. Yes. Share.

**Silent Ee:** I cannot adequately express how much your words of encouragement meant to me as I struggled to eke out this latest chapter. How much your friendship means to me. How bereft I would be without your company, or how unworthy I am of your praise. Please, hold my hand a bit longer.

**Hoppy-chan:** If I had but one wish, it would be to share a long conversation with you over your beguiling way with words, sipping hot cocoa on a cold winter's morn. I'm still one of your biggest fans, eagerly devouring the stories you create. Play on… play on. **For Whom the Wind Blows** is entirely too captivating. _-hind leg twitches_- I do so love scritches. Told ya I read it.

**Nocturne:** Your absence is most keenly felt – I hope you get a chance to read this chapter, and that it continues to enchant you, as your emails have enchanted me, that I can bring even a fraction of the wonder you've given me in return. Be well, most beloved reader. I miss you.

**Kinryuu:** Dropkick me. All artists like to be reminded they are something other than creatures of their own imagination, but rather, an amalgamation of the hopes and dreams, the expectations of those who enjoy their work. _-rubs her bum bemusedly-_ From your lips to my fingertips, thy will be done. I hope it pleases.

**Krampus:** Thank you so much for returning to read ITBT; it means the world to me. Truly, madly, deeply – I love your replies.

**Jen-chan:** The story continues to evolve, as the authoress devolves into some other quasi-sentient life form. I hope I haven't lost you to the absence – your review left me speechless. Nao is actually one of my favorites as well. They all are, monuments unto themselves. I hope to prove your friend correct… was it worth the wait?

**Shigan & Kieli:** Your comments at the end of **Bedtime Manners for Two** were priceless. To be praised by one such as yourself continues to delight and fill me with awe. You and **Kieli** both. Wow. Just… ellfing… wow. _Why does Shigan ALWAYS write Natsuki from first person POV?_ That, at least, has a simple, delicate answer: one writes from the persona one is most connected to. I applaud your choice.

**Seravy:** Please continue **Reset**. Please please please please. _-wags tail-_ So good. Sooooo good.

**Ashishu:** I know you've probably never read my work, and as such, shan't see this particular message… but, should you learn of this, and feel inspired, continue **My Girl** if circumstance allows. For those that haven't read it, if you've the time, I would mention that I loved it, every word of the six chapters, and hungrily awaited more.

**ficeler37:** I am so jealous – you update well. Damn you. Cheetoes have nothing on your addictive qualities.

**Vega62:** **Resolution** continues to hold me spellbound, and **Fake** took my breath away. You are a continual source of wonderment. Your vision, though divergent from my own (or perhaps _because_ of those differences), beckons me from the shores of wanderlust with all the comfort of home.

**EA Simpson:** **The Strange Affair of the Katsu Ruins** just keeps getting better and better – the intrigue, the mayhem. I can't wait to see what happens next. Yes, I'm still your cheerleader, for good or ill.

To everyone else, and there are many many many who deserve their dappled, sunlit grove: you are loved, and appreciated, each and every one. I've read each story in the various dwellings I reside; hiding in the shadows, quietly, reverently listening to every word you speak. _'There is magic in that music.' 'And it moves through me.' 'You feel the love of beautiful things.'_

In this chapter, we revisit old friends, too long absent, too loved to be ignored. We discover a bit more about Shizuru, and learn, perhaps, the greatest truth of all – we are who we are not because of the events which shaped us, nor in spite, but because of the emptiness they leave behind. Entropy beckons; first becomes last. Lend me your hearts for a time, your ear for a tune – if we are worthy, give thanks. We play for you.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Chapter 16**

She felt restless and constrained, mired within the sweat-dampened sheets – adrift within her uncertainties. She hadn't really had time to adequately mull, to taste each variation's subtle hue, and grasp what meaning, if any, the storm represented as it tore through her thoughts, sundering what was from what had been. She sighed softly. As engaging as basking in Natsuki's presence was, each breath more achingly beautiful than its predecessor – she needed solitude to sift through her perceptions, ascertain which shifts had taken place, and how to contain them.

Shizuru gingerly withdrew, frowning a bit – the loss of contact, of warmth _her warmth_ hurt – she was acutely aware of this pain, coiling under her breasts, the panic of losing, the panic of change. _Close your eyes._ Wise. _I will not let you go; I don't care if you return, I will not let you go._ Her lip twitched a bit, amused by her stubbornness. _Relax._ Her muscles obeyed, grudgingly, and she was almost free when the soft whimpers she'd been neglecting in her efforts turned less pleading, the arms which had laxly cradled her constricted, crushing her. She gasped in surprise _but not fear, never fear_, strawberry-hazel meeting spring green as Shizuru gazed into Natsuki's unseeing eyes.

"Wait for me." She felt immeasurably vulnerable in the strength of the midnight-haired girl's grasp, felt a pang of worry, of guilt, for trying to slip away while Natsuki needed her. _She's still asleep._ This was true – the reflection of her face in those half-open, emerald pools carried no recognition, and she calmed, easily donning the mantle of soothing affection.

"Yes, Natsuki, I will be here."

The arms tightened further, pulled her into a brief, ebullient hold, cheek to cheek with Natsuki; she wondered if the girl would rouse, held her breath as the slurred, almost incomprehensible words warmed her ear, "Shizuru runs too fast," and then the tension, whatever dream or nightmare had partially animated Natsuki, receded, allowing movement once more. _So._

Shizuru kissed the pale forehead, whispered quiet reassurances as she replaced herself with her pillow, coaxing it into Natsuki's hands, smiling fondly as the girl buried her face in the _Shizuru scent _pliant material. She tucked the sheet around the sleeping figure, studying Natsuki for a few moments, from the arc of the raven's wings as they splayed behind her along the bed, to the rolling curves of her side, from shoulder's swell to the modest incline of hip, to the relaxed features of her face. _I wonder if I look as peaceful in my sleep._

It was worthless to squander what little time she had left, however much was allotted before Natsuki awakened, in reflections better hoarded for another time, when she could bask in the beauty of her partner with touch as well as glance. She turned swiftly, denied pressing concerns for random speculation as she bathed and dressed, brushed the damp snarls from her hair. _What am I to her? Friend? Companion? Lover?_

In Shizuru's mind, this notion, so radically evolved in the hand span of days decaying around her, remained unfixed, a nomad, creeping from one preconception to the next, seeking shelter. _My Natsuki._ Her fingers curled around the memory of the razor cupped tightly in her palm, felt the sting of denied possibility, the certainty of immovable fate shift her weight as she aligned the sweep of transgression to slip across her beloved's throat _if we cannot be together_. And in that moment, as despair shattered her_ mine in life, mine in death_, in that moment their eyes had met, a fraction before Natsuki's arms encircled her waist. A flash of viridian _she looks so sad_, with no hint of alarm. She'd collapsed in surrender. _I would never hurt my Natsuki._

Yet she had, hadn't she? _Two souls, eternally entwined – almost touching, forever apart._ It hadn't been the bit of metal clutched between senseless fingers, it was something else, something heavier. Shizuru closed her eyes as she stumbled, leaning her forehead against the soothing coolness of the wall, one hand lifted in a gesture of placation, pressed lightly over her lips to hold the queasiness at bay. _The expression was the same, lacking fear or doubt._ Shizuru trembled, curling in on herself as she opened her eyes. She wasn't quite ready to unravel this mystery – she set it aside.

Of more importance was how Natsuki viewed her, and though she suspected her companion's perceptions hadn't so fundamentally altered – in Natsuki's mind, she would remain as she was _more than lovers, less than friends_ – introducing the confusion of _mutual_ sexual interest was bound have unpredictable results. Transitions were chaotic, mutable; the foundations upon which one built certainties crumbled in an instant, and one could never count on emotion to bind affection into favorable outcomes.

Reassuring herself Natsuki was still asleep, she padded into the kitchen, noticed the dishes Natsuki had used in preparing the tea, unwashed in a heap beside the sink as she opened the back door. The scent of rain was strong, brought a blush to her cheeks _she smells like rain_ – Shizuru propped the door open, enjoying the breeze as it eddied through the room. Humming to herself, she tidied, fingers tingling slightly as they washed the pan Natsuki had boiled water in, brushed over the cup she'd been handed _she made me tea… she was trying to take care of me, do something nice_.

"It was nice… Natsuki." She glanced over her shoulder, somewhat chagrinned, expecting the object of her thoughts to be standing in the hallway, blushing, arms crossed defiantly as she scowled _don't get used to it, it was temporary insanity_, but the arch was empty, and she frowned. Disquiet edged into her stomach, refusing to be ignored – she sighed, reached for another cup, swirled water from the electric dispensing pot, warming it sufficiently before enjoying her gyokuro-cha.

The familiar flavor brought no comfort, and she set the empty cup aside; the fluttering sensation increased, caught mid-breath, just below her larynx. Shizuru leaned over the sink, amused. She was in no mood to stay still, craved the meditation only activity brought.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nao studied the low slung dorm through the rain, cautiously sifting through the details – the motorcycle was where she'd left it, parked protectively under the overhang of the roof, unmoved, unmoving. The ground was sodden, reaffirming this certainty: the cycle hadn't been used_ no tracks_, continued to slumber in its half-canted position, recklessly tilted against the kickstand. Her lip curled in a silent challenge, imagining Kuga's _beast_ bike were predatorily barring the path. Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew the nail file and walked fearlessly across the slippery grass to her mechanical foe, traced the sharp point of metal across the glistening, beetle-black surface.

As always, the thrill of destruction, of wanton, aimless revenge, clawed through her chest, flushed her cheeks, warming her midsection as it rose from the abyss of latent, unrequited desire, teased the sedate tempo of her pulse into a sickening trot. Fingers caressed the cold leather seat, slipped across the brightly chromed engine, tangled themselves in a knot, grasping the small bundle of wires running flush with the metal. Her body tingled. This wasn't the same motorcycle Kuga had ridden as the Festival unraveled, the one Nao'd tripped, smeared across a half block of asphalt as its rider tumbled and rolled, her visor shattering on impact. Nao shuddered, panting quietly as the recollection overwhelmed her, head sagging until the giddy sensation receded.

It was not the same vehicle she'd punctured the brake lines of either, hoping beyond hope Natsuki, whom she'd just driven from the grungy apartment in a tumult of anguished escapism, would wind up face first under an oncoming semi. Nao grinned, imagining what sort of terrified expression the rich, spoiled _hime-sama_ would have on her face, what delicious symphony of screams would rip through Kuga's throat as she was drawn under the hungry tires. She wondered if Kuga's final thoughts would be mired in failure and loneliness. The hand tightened; she could hear the rubber insulated wires shift in protest; releasing her hold she continued to caress the cycle's undercarriage, almost lovingly.

Nao had no idea what provoked her to damage the brake system, other than her normal simmering contempt – she'd thought it was passive-aggressive chafing under Shizuru's control, a tiny bit of rebellion against her honey-haired captor. The gesture was meaningless; Nao'd known that at the time. Whatever level of frothing, emotional tizzy she'd wrung from Kuga, even on rain slicked streets, even secure in the knowledge Natsuki drove with suicidal abandon when sufficiently roused, she was still a HiME. Natsuki wouldn't die from such sabotage – she was deathless, she was immortal, she was _beyond my ability to kill _lucky.

The tip of the nail file dimpled the rear tire. All she had to do was push, slash upward, and the vehicle would remain immobile. Nao ground her teeth, snarling, arm taunt as she wrestled with the urge. It would be so easy, yet, wouldn't this be another fruitless endeavor? _What if Shizuru needs to use it?_ Her nostrils flared; the hand moved in a quick flourish, scraping kanji into the rubbery flesh. The redhead rocked back on her heels, surveying her compromise. _Fuck you_. Yes, that was enough, for now. The right side of her mouth twitched into a humorless smile as she rose, hearing the faint whisper of sundered space. Curiosity got the better of her as she followed the sounds to their source.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The honey-haired woman delicately swept the loose golden strands into her palm, gathering her hair just under her left ear as her body turned, pivoted her footing as the arm guiding her naginata finished its circular motion. She smiled to herself, eyes downcast, forever perfect – the unbreakable china doll. She modulated her control to accommodate the added stress of performing the kata one handed, forcing each motion into the graceful performance it was intended to be.

The muscles in the small of her back trembled, far beyond exhaustion, and she allowed herself a slightly deeper breathing pattern, tilting her face up into the sky, sightlessly watching the clouds scudding across the horizon. Sweat plastered her bangs to her forehead, gathered in runnels, stung her eyes, blossomed into a fine plume of moisture as the inferno in her lungs expelled molten lava between the politely curving lips. Her toes cramped, her foot landing a fraction of an inch from where the dance demanded it should, and she sighed in demure, flawlessly moderated disappointment.

Stretching forward, her body lowered itself obediently, one foot in front of the other, almost flush with the ground. Her grip tightened on the shaft of her weapon as she uncoiled from this position in a single, serpentine thrust. A kill strike, one which would have, had there been an opponent, disemboweled, caught in the ribcage, locked close to the sternum, and pulled the body under Shizuru's feet as she twisted the blade, disengaging this imaginary foe.

The tempo increased as the naginata's shaft whistled through a flurry of aggressive parries, spiraled around the girl's head, shoulders, cut diagonally as Shizuru extended her body, hovering a few inches above the stone lined walkway, chin tucked close to her shoulder as she focused her peripheral vision to take in her surroundings. _'Be aware of your enemies, analyze their behavior before you strike – each movement has purpose – the blocking stroke should be a killing blow; always attack the opponent at your back. Never stop moving – you are the wind, you are the water, you are the circle, without beginning or end.'_

"Yes, Sensei." Hair tickled her cheeks as she reversed the motion, trading the contents of her hands, began the dance once more with the naginata held casually in her left, and her hair confined within her right. Her body protested, her legs shaking under the strain, her arms roaring with fire, and she laughed, her torso twisting mid-air as she leapt, rolling horizontally to land on her feet. This was hers, belonging to no one else, the time she spent honing her skill with her Element. It was the only time she was truly herself, flowing through the space between the seconds, pushing herself beyond her limits, life burning through her veins with each laboring beat of her heart.

_Almost there._ She was alive; she was free. _'Control comes with practice – it comes with blood and tears.'_ Weeping with fatigue, Shizuru reached for the ruddy ember burning in her stomach. _Give me peace._ She swayed, releasing herself into the warmth, leaving her limbs to continue their practice without conscious direction. _The rain._

_Sitting on her heels, Shizuru's glance wandered to the water gathering along the windowsill; she was bored – she'd learned nothing new in their last three sessions._

_"__Pay attention!" __The voice was harsh, dissonant, brooking no heterodoxy. Shizuru's face warmed, maple hued eyes narrowing; she held her tongue, pinching it between her teeth, held herself motionless, awaiting further instruction. She suspected her tutor didn't much care for her, not that this mattered – his opinions were superfluous, just as her own feelings on the matter were ignored._

_The girl turned to face him, bowing gracefully. "I have learned nothing today, Sensei." Her voice was quiet, melodic. The left side of his mouth twitched. "I request that we continue."_

_"You're dismissed!" The teacher's voice rose a notch, edged equally with exasperation and contempt. Fujino-san's calligraphy was flawless, her mastery of the meaning and form behind the strokes precise: the curves soft, artistically forgiving, and the lines delicate and absolute. He despised her._

_A tiny hand clasped the edge of his jacket, tugged once, softly, to get his attention, and returned to the girl's side. She lowered her head respectfully. "Kannin na, Sensei has been generous with his time, and this girl was inattentive. I hope Sensei is blessed with more diligent students in the future." He stared incredulously at the child's beautiful, charming smile as she bowed a second time and exited the room, realizing he'd just been shit-canned by a seven year old._

'_In time, you will defeat me.'_ "Yes, Sensei." And she had, she'd beaten them all; an endless, faceless tide of instructors whose knowledge she'd absorbed in her lifetime of unwasted moments. Remembering their names beyond this limited span was pointless; regardless of subject, with patience and effort, she outstripped them, the dry rattle of autumn leaves, until there was nothing left to learn. The search for new minds to wring dry had become increasingly… futile; long ago the skillful had vied with one another for a position within the Fujino household, but the true masters were a proud, stubborn lot. They refused to teach Shizuru on her own terms, and she was content to bide her time in self-training until they capitulated.

The kata ended with the same footing as it began. Shizuru closed her eyes, accepting the weariness, let if flow through her being, run along quivering muscles, and depart through her fingertips. She slipped the nagajuban she'd been wearing from her shoulders and stepped into the rain, listening to the pattern of falling water as it washed her thoughts away, brought her back to herself. Inhaling deeply, she smiled. Shizuru loved the rain.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_In my Father's house…_ She looked through endless, directionless hallways, spurred on by necessity – to find, to hold. _In my Father's house, there are…_ She spun in a complete circle, unsure which direction to pursue; she was at a hub, a nexus of walkways, where there should be, rationally, four directions to choose from, the spokes of a compass, and yet logic held no power here. _In my Father's house, there are many mansions._ Which way had she gone? It was impossible to tell; neither floor nor ceiling barred continuation along the third dimension, and one hallway was identical to the next, giving no indication of recent use. _'You must not.'_ Must not what? _'Find this disobedient daughter, and when she is found, she will be punished.'_ It was difficult to remember why – when their father was angry, memory leaked away like sand, fled from their outstretched fingers, as she, the one they hunted, was doing.

_What am I looking for?_ Three tiers of colored glass, shapes etched, fractions of a whole, enjoined. She'd only visited the church a few times while the stained windows stood intact, but she'd been fascinated by them; had crept close enough to trace the outline of the lead cementing, her eyes instinctively drawn to the most primitive shade – watched the light travel through golddust imbued glass, dapple her palm in crimson shadow _like your eyes_, stumbled forward, inexorably drawn, pressed her cheek to the cold, aloof pane, her face bathed in ruddy glow as she peered through the pebbled, opaque surface. _A strawberry window_. She saw nothing, and was not surprised. Glass was a window, not a door, couldn't be opened or closed, and the eyes she sought, the eyes of the one she longed for most, were tightly covered.

_She's afraid, we both are._ The dark haired girl spun in a circle, her hand raised, as if she were beckoning a reticent youth to come out from hiding under the table – there was no knowing which way footsteps had carried her. _So._ Her lips moved soundlessly.

_Don't worry, precious one – I will protect you. Father can't have you, because you are mine. I will find you, and then…_

The sleeping figure thrashed, her fingers, partially curled, reaching, as they always were, as they always had been.

_And then we will run away together, my beautiful_

"Shizuru!"

The room was silent, gave her nothing to focus on as she sat up and surveyed their tiny, rumpled kingdom with blurry concentration. Natsuki felt numb and listless, blinked a few times, scrubbing the oily sweat of her nightmares from her face with the sheet; she was sticky and unkempt, rose stiffly, pushing the bedclothes towards the footboard. She glanced towards the window – sere, cold-iron light, the sky was overcast, thick with humidity and sullen, malicious intent. Natsuki ran her fingers through her hair, yawning, decided she wanted a shower. _Fucking rain._ She slid off the bed, walked to the bedroom door and closed it after searching the hallway. Soft pattering against the roof confirmed what she already knew. _I fucking hate the rain._

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scarlet flashed against gunmetal gray as the naginata traced the horizon, severed heaven and earth with liquid ease, reared defiantly, splitting the sky: parallel reflection, the star of twilight _the HiME star_ wielded in delicate, lethal precision. Personal harbinger of damned fate, arcing scythe _Shizuru's Element,_ brandished against _Nao_ the world _cut my mount from under me, drove me away before Scylla_ _crushed my Child_. Protector of the innocent, slayer of innocence _drove me away, when Fujino could have taken my life…_ That wasn't right, was it? So many ways to interpret omens of the past, moments blurring into one another with the speed of _'Do you think you're getting away from me after what you did to Natsuki?'_ sound, this sound – the whine of air passing around a sharpened blade.

Nao clenched the shirt over her heart tightly, gasping for breath as she ducked behind the screening foliage; she didn't want to get caught _hand in the cookie jar_ spying on her mentor, no, not yet, not until she was sure. She held on to that image, so clearly defined in her mind's eye – the path of least resistance, sentencing her to her disappointment – to loss, to losing _Ma…ma!_, leaving her _all alone _sitting amidst the tatters of her defeat. Shizuru's expression had been tranquil, almost reassuring, a promise of sanctuary_ just lie still, and I will reunite you with your Mother_. Nao believed the _deadened_ calm in those autumn eyes; she had then, she had to now.

Nao saw herself rising, hand lifted in casual greeting as Shizuru paused, settling the naginata in front of her for support.

_"Isn't it a coincidence to meet you here?"_

It was a lie issued between them in this internal debate, as falsely felt as it was falsely uttered: nothing was random; coincidence itself was a deceit; it was nothing more than contrived probability – if you wanted to win, you hedged your bet, arranged the fateful encounters ahead of time.

_"Why would it be a coincidence for us to meet when you are sneaking around in my back yard?"_

_Time, I'm running out of…_ The vision was immersive, held her spellbound, tangled in the web of chance. _Would she or wouldn't she? Choose Kuga, or take me._ Silence returned with a deafening rush, bringing nagging realization in tow – she hadn't moved at all, but was mutely watching the woman with tea shaded hair, catching limited glimpses through breaks in the greenery: pale hands brushing water across paler skin, the briefest fragment of a smile as the figure turned, slipping a robe over her shoulders, adjusting damp hair to lay cloak-like across her back. Nao ground her teeth in frustration, wondering why the universe was conspiring against her.

_No such thing as coincidence_.

Nor was it one when the prize disappeared from view, the closing door signaling an end of opportunity – to make real what she'd believed already taking place. She'd missed her chance, if one had existed, confirmed by the tell-tale click of the lock. _Alone again._ The redhead grunted in sour amusement, wiping water from her eyes. A sodden voyeur, standing outside in the rain, staring at her benefactor through the kitchen window as Fujino prepared her beloved tea. Her _tor_mentor, the object of her ire, serpent coiled about her passion – Fujino Shizuru was not human; she was the goddess of death wrapped in flesh and bone.

She wanted to run away screaming. She wanted a better view. Nao didn't know what the hell she wanted – but the same _strawberry shaded_ magnetic compulsion she felt when looking into Shizuru's eyes drew her onward. She didn't believe in happenstance. _And yet shit happens._ Yeah. That's just the way it was.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tears gathered in her lashes, overflowed, spilling down her cheeks. She closed her eyes, wrapped her hands around the teacup. _Mother, would you be proud of me? I'm following my dreams._ At what cost? Her father had spoken to her about the foolishness of obsession, and Shizuru had never heeded: only hypocrisy lay in those words from the man who had trained her to be perfect. She respected him, his ambition, had felt honored, proud to be his heir – to carry on the family name – but he, too, was a fool. _'Happiness, that's all I've ever wanted for you, Shi-chan.'_ Her mother's fingers, stroking her cheek, begging her to understand the importance of these words. She loved her mother.

Shizuru knew there was no malice in Okaasama's efforts to save her from her father's demands. The wife of a wealthy aristocrat, her mother had been groomed to be precisely what she was – a possession. _Was what they shared with one another love?_ She'd often wondered. To her father, Okaasama had been a means to an end, security of another generation. A beautiful butterfly, pinned to his lapel, support. Her mother had been quite young when they were wed, soft-spoken, the perfect accessory.

Her father had accepted this arrangement with pleasure – he was the ruler of the Fujino empire, and she would bear the fruit of his ambition. When Shizuru was born, it was the happiest day of their lives. Unlike the more closed-minded contemporaries of their social stature, he wasn't disappointed to have a daughter as his firstborn. Quite the contrary, he'd considered it a challenge, to hone a faultless weapon, mold her in his image: ruthless, remorseless, chill and untouchable, driven to accept nothing but absolute surrender from those around her.

The charm of a demure smile to lull the unwary to their knees. The will to uphold his legacy. To this end, she'd been tutored _from conception onward_ by the finest teachers. Her earlier years had been dominated by hours of unrelenting study, and she gladly accepted, embraced the knowledge with a passion her father proudly boasted was from his genes. Shizuru smiled, filled with warmth and affection for the man who had pushed her mercilessly. He'd never scolded her, not once – he'd had no need. Shizuru was, quite possibly, even more relentless than he. She'd reveled in the unbroken hours of tutelage, relished the economy and fluidity of his purpose.

Learning came easily to her, as was fitting. She was graceful, frighteningly intelligent, possessed of limitless natural ability. The only thing she'd resented, growing up, was having to associate with those beneath her, those unworthy of speaking to her who insisted on fawning on her, ceaselessly glorifying even her smallest accomplishments. Of course she was better than them, she worked harder, strove longer, dismissed the physical pains of exceeding her limitations as a fleeting discomfort for a greater reward.

And this had worried her mother.

Her father's face solidified, and she shrank from the displeasure she could see in his expression. '_Obsession is a fool's paradise.'_

"Yes, Otousama."

Coming from a man whose entire existence revolved around one woman, her mother. It was not what Shizuru would call love, or affection, she decided; it was not what she supposed should qualify for that accolade – but it was what it was; an experience she was intimately familiar with, for herself. She couldn't quite bring herself to give it a name, respecting her father's adamant denials _but we both share that paradise, don't we?_ Yes. They did. She sipped her tea, opened her mouth to inhale the steam. The clearest image she had of her parents expressing themselves with one another was one of her father sitting in his study, poring over reports – monthly, daily, hourly – if Shizuru sought her father, he could be found in his study, immersed in work.

And her mother… A tiny smile twitched at the outermost corner of her lips. When Otousama secluded himself in this room for hours on end, he would often summon his wife, and she would demurely lower herself into a kneeling position nearby – close enough to stain the air with her calm, close enough for his hands, when they wandered from the pages he scoured, to meditatively brush through her hair. Shizuru had often found this ritual demeaning in some intrinsic way, as if her father were shackling his spouse with the band of animalistic domestication, and yet, there were times, times when her father was beyond approachable, when the aura of intensity shimmered around him like a mirage, and his words – normally forceful and to the point, would turn cutting – and Okaasama was the only cure for this malaise. She would hum, hum him a lullaby.

Was this, then, love after all? Had her father, whose sharp, often merciless gaze that descended on his subordinates in a fury of impassioned persuasion, truly cared for them, reflected by the suddenly gentle, accommodating glances he offered her and her mother? It was confusing – not quite as ethereal as her own floundering, in juxtaposition with her current relationship, but similar. The models she had were incomplete – her father's aloof adoration; her mother's doting acceptance of her position by her husband's side – the shadows of his hands as they hovered over the fragile woman's head, possessive, yet hesitant.

She didn't quite understand their marriage, was only now truly grasping the subtleties which had passed between them, always present, understated. The tea was rich and sweet, the honey she'd added enhancing the natural flavor without dominating. It was a metaphor. Shizuru trembled, tightened her fingers over the slick, convoluted surface, imagining what it would be like to quietly kneel at Natsuki's side as her lover chased whatever passion captured her fancy, submerged in the lone wolf's presence. _Yes, I understand._ But would it be enough? Enough for her? Enough for Natsuki? _She is my life, my love, the one thing I cannot live without, and yet, though she is now my equal – I am unequal to her._

Shizuru frowned, accepting the truth of this statement. To Natsuki, she was what everyone saw, what everyone accepted, expected of her – provider, guidance, the source of serenity, holding the answers to unanswerable questions behind her ineffable smile. _This is not what I want, not what I crave._ But could she accept it? Was the risk of change worth the imagined benefits of being more _less_ than what she was? _Will Natsuki accept me if I set aside the masks, if I lower my guard, extend my hand and begin the journey of discovering who I am?_ She wasn't sure. And once again, fear overcame reason – she wasn't sure at all.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The raven-haired girl grumbled as she searched for her new _girlfriend? lover? _roommate without success, though she noticed the previously discarded undergarments were missing. _At least she's probably dressed._ That was something to be thankful for. She wasn't sure she could cope with people running around naked in her current state … not without screaming at them. Possibly resorting to violence. _Be just my luck though, wouldn't it. Everything bad happens when it rains. Mother being driven off the road, Father remarrying a few days after her death, the funeral, Smith revealing I'd been purchased by Searrs, Nao jumping me, my apartment being torched, finding the disk that confirmed everything in my life is a lie._

Natsuki rubbed her temples, warding off the headache these illogical paranoia attacks evoked. _She's gone again._ Her face screwed into a grimace. _Don't be stupid._ Shizuru was probably in the kitchen preparing breakfast_ 'something American, something fried'_, affectionately making food Shizuru herself couldn't stomach. _No, the apartment's empty – maybe she left to give you your precious space._

"Fuck off," she muttered.

_Maybe because that's what you've always done to her, and Shizuru wants a little revenge. Prove a point – take your medicine, Natsuki. Because you're selfish, inflexible, returning nothing to the people who care for you._ She walked to the bathroom, locked herself in, concentrating on not slamming the offending wood until the jamb splintered. Maybe that was true, or maybe she was projecting, seeking an excuse, any excuse; give herself a reason to bolt. Leaning against the wall, she turned her head to stare fixedly at the handle, willing her fairer haired companion to make an appearance, prove the internal heckler wrong. The silence was claustrophobic, left her no avenue for pretending Shizuru's whereabouts. What she _could_ hear brought no relief at all.

"All the rain's fault."

_Shikata ga nai_. Like many things in life, it couldn't be helped; she tuned out the noise with a shower – easy enough to camouflage water with water, though the merger of sounds evoked a somewhat disturbing image of bathing in the rain, bare to the world. She finished quickly, wrapped herself in Shizuru's robe with grim determination. _Not like this helps much_, she thought sourly, glancing at the reflection in the steam-frosted mirror. The garment fell just below her knees, covering her completely from neck to calf, and left no contour to the imagination. _For someone so polished and refined, she has some very risqué tastes._ Natsuki wondered if she, herself, fell into this licentious category, and decided ignorance was the better part of valor.

Natsuki crossed her arms over her chest and frowned fiercely at the dark haired woman looking back at her, denying the impulse to stick out her tongue. _What the hell's gotten into me? That's so completely juvenile._ Her mind supplied several plausible, overly literal retorts to what _whom _had gotten into her; she turned her back on the glass. She already knew her face was a molten mask of embarrassment; confirmation was adding insult to injury. _Shut UP you._ Scolding inner voices was about as rewarding as trying to convince Shizuru sneakers and sweats were formal attire, and yet somehow, she could never resist._ When it comes to Shizuru._

Her lips thinned as she combed her hair, flipped the sodden mass over her shoulder. _I really hate it when it rains._ Feeling grumpy and out of sorts, she stomped into the hallway, dragging her belongings into _their? _the bedroom. _I wonder if she'll give me my own room?_ Stupid question. Of course she would; all Natsuki had to do was ask. _So, the real question is, do I want to ask?_ She smirked as plowed through the bags for something to wear. _Dangerous to wander around with the safety off loaded questions._

Not in the mood for such irrelevant diversions, she dressed impatiently, wrapping the towel around her head when she'd finished. _In my father's house…_ _Where have you gone, Shizuru?_ Standing still was intolerable; leaving the room held no appeal. Natsuki paced, chewing on her fingernail, wandered back to the bed and grabbed Shizuru's pillow, cradling it in her arms. Eyes closed as she buried her face in the fading tea-spicy aroma, her face flushing with delight. _She won't leave me. In a world of half-truths, where everything goes to hell, I have one absolute, one person who will stay by my side forever._

As comforting as this thought was, doubt remained, buried under the knowledge she didn't believe. She crushed the pillow in her arms, sniffed angrily, absorbing the tears before they could fall. Reversal of faith, the truth remained hollow, unpersuasive. Natsuki wanted to believe; the evidence was irrefutable, right in front of her. Shizuru would sacrifice _destroy_ anything, herself and everything around her, do whatever was necessary to keep Natsuki within the compass of her _control_ protection. Less rational parts of her mind whispered even death hesitated before meddling with Shizuru's passions, lest it be subject to the wrath of Fujino. _What more proof do I need?_

"Baka da na, Shizuru would never…" These concerns _insecurities_ were pointless – she needed to stop worrying. _And do what, exactly?_ Natsuki tossed the pillow on the bed, ground her teeth and exhaled with measured slowness. _Why would she never? What the hell does she see in me anyway?_ She had no idea, no clues to shed light on this question, other than a handful of responses to her terse, resentful accusations. '_Why are you always hanging around me?'_ The smile, that's what she'd gotten in return. That goddamn smile, the one that said 'why are you asking me something you already know the answer to, Natsuki?' Almost always followed by her second _least_ favorite expression, the one that said 'I'm vapid and completely harmless'.

'_Because I like you.'_

She'd never really had the courage to press beyond these phrases, because somewhere, hidden in the subtext, there were other messages. _Because you're mine. Mine to hold. Mine to take._ And that was terrifying. More terrifying than being alone. _Liar._ She should just go. Grab her things and take off; go someplace where the fear of _being alone_ belonging to someone didn't linger _on the taste of her lips _in the air.

Natsuki bristled. "She's always trying to outmaneuver me." What made her so special, worthy of such _obsession_ affection? Shizuru had a huge fan club, people who clawed each other out of the way for an opportunity to hold the older girl's attention. _She could have anyone she wants. But would I want her with anyone else?_ Her eyebrow twitched spastically as she struggled with the sudden wave of animosity towards this unknown shadowy figure – the person who would replace her in Shizuru's life. _Not going to happen, not in a million years._ _Not after we…_ Fingers curled themselves into a ball as she shoved this thought away. _Not thinking about that. Can't deal with it._ So. Did she really want to leave? _No._ Could she stand staying? _Maybe. I don't know._

"This is bullshit. I should just open the stupid door and go find her." Her feet remained firmly planted; she didn't want to open the door, didn't want to confront the certainty her friend had spirited away, abandoned her. Left her to rot. She forced herself to move; three lurching steps and Natsuki was before the portal of truth, hand obstinately refusing to turn the knob. _Something terrible will happen if I leave this room._ _Rain, rain – drowning pain. _The idiot's rhyme continued unheeded, screaming its warning as the breath was sucked from her lungs. Wiping clammy palms on her jeans, Natsuki did the only thing she knew: clutched the shred of trust tightly and played chicken with the rain.

The low hum of voices carried her forward, tugged an embarrassed smile from the corner of her mouth. _See? I told you – she was in the kitch… voices?_ One of them was definitely Shizuru, but the other was broken, halting, difficult to place. _'Ma…ma!'_ Natsuki's smile twisted into a snarl, her teeth bared in a grimace caught half way between anxiety and dislike. Her pace quickened, pulse pounding between her ears as she stepped into the archway separating the rooms. Shizuru's name died on her lips, swallowed itself, choking her as the scene revealed itself.

_Too close._ The honey-haired woman stood intimately near the tearful redhead, holding Nao's wrist in a casual embrace, staring into the shorter girl's dilated jade-hued eyes.

"What does Nao-chan want?" Shizuru's voice, rich with expectation, echoed the question she'd asked Natsuki in the shower. _'I want you.'_ She wanted to yell, wanted to howl at them both, but her throat refused to cooperate, left her mute, shaking with impotent fury. Nao's face contorted as she replied, and Shizuru smiled encouragingly, caught in profile. _Her robe is open – I don't think she's wearing anything underneath._ Natsuki's arm rose of its own volition, fingers collapsing on a familiar weight. And then she found her voice.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The shuffling from the hallway didn't evoke concern, she was, after all, no longer living alone, and the scent was familiar. Smiling, she set aside the second cup of tea half-prepared, turned to face the arch between hall and kitchen expectantly. "Natsuki?" But it wasn't. Sound ceased; her smile faltered as the seconds spun into minutes, the minutes into suspicion. The figure standing bedraggled and dripping on tiled floor wasn't her lone wolf at all, but the other one. _She's wearing Natsuki's clothes._ Nao mutely stared, locked eyes with her in an unnerving fashion, neither blinking nor lowering her glance in mocking difference. _Wrong shade… wrong shade of green._

The sodden redhead was forcing the air through her nose as she took a step closer, and Shizuru compelled herself not to retreat, frowning; focused her senses on the pattern of breathing, on the hectic flush staining the younger girl's cheeks, on the bright, aggressive glint in those jade eyes. _Cat's eyes._ They reflected their surroundings, giving no hint as to what thoughts lay behind them. Shizuru couldn't recall a time when her foundling had so openly challenged her without backing down, and she blushed, breaking the contact first. There was something about the incommodious quality of that stare that made her feel snared – she'd strangle herself if she struggled against the pressure.

"I see Yuuki-san found her way home." The tremulous undercurrent in her voice infuriated her, gave her the motivation required to extract herself from the inertia, and she glanced at the spreading pool beneath Nao's feet. Her mouth drew down as she walked to the linen closet, grabbed a towel and returned. Nao hadn't moved, and Shizuru patted the redhead's hair. "You should take a shower. I'll find you something _not Natsuki's_ dry to wear."

The younger girl laughed bitterly, lifting her hands and wrapping them around Shizuru's, halting their motions. "Baka, I didn't come back to be lectured. I came for you."

_For me?_ The snare was tightening, left Shizuru nauseous. She'd been deliberately avoiding Nao's face, staring anyplace else, over the girl's shoulder as she dried her off, and she was completely unprepared when the shorter girl pressed a chilly, shivering frame into the warmth of her body.

Nao's eyes closed as she lifted herself the inches separating their lips, opening her mouth as she enjoyed the sweetness of Shizuru's breath, tasted the curves with a demanding tongue. The startled sound of Shizuru's protest was lost under the pleasant murmurs of Nao's longing; she waited impatiently for the older girl to accept her advances, muting the cautioning voice blaring in the back of her mind. This is _she's going to cast you aside_ exactly _she's going to punish you_ what she _this isn't_ wanted.

Shizuru stiffened, lost amidst the debris of swiftly canting perception. She had no idea what to do, floundered, grasping aimlessly for her locus of control. _The wrong shade…_ She remained motionless, unresponsive, hoping Nao would realize the error of her actions, and when the younger girl lowered her hands to the belt of the robe, untying the binding, she stepped backwards, shaking her head in denial. _A figure ground silent with need, watching._

"No. This isn't what Nao-chan wants." She spoke softly, soothingly – this voice, herself, was a stranger, husky with unshed tears. _So much like myself. Natsuki…_

"It is." The redhead was whining now; she trembled. There was no going back, she had no path of retreat – if Shizuru didn't acknowledge her affection, she'd lose everything. Nao was sure this was what Shizuru craved, the core of her illogical worship of Kuga. _You want to bang her right? I'm bangable_._ I can give; let me._ "I know what you need; what you desire." Nao was begging, pleading with the older girl. She followed as Shizuru tried to evade her, drew the honey-haired woman into her arms, brushed her cheek over the silk covering the woman's chest, encouraged by her responses. _I'll give you anything… I don't need to be an equal, just please… look at me._

"Stop." Shizuru gasped, closed her eyes as her back arched into the contact. _She smells like Natsuki._ Yes. The scent was similar, recognizable but not identical – the younger girl's aroma mingled with the familiar, diluting it. Shizuru ground her teeth in frustration as Nao's fingers opened the robe, caressed the softness of her stomach. She shrank into the counter, hissed in horrified abandon as the touches turned more intimate; fury erupted through her clenched jaw. No one had dared accost her in this manner, attempted to violate her person with unwanted aspiration.

"I can make you happy; I won't leave."

_Why are you doing this? This isn't what you want._ Nao loved her mother with unshakable loyalty, but her mother had asked Shizuru to look after her daughter, to care for Nao _in ways she was incapable of_ in her stead. _Is that what I've become? So. I'm all she has left, because she's alone. Like Natsuki._ So. _She's bartering. Foolish child._ _She knows she can't win._ Shizuru sighed, disgusted – it was in her nature to interact with others in the manner they responded to the most efficiently. _Monster I am, lest monster I become._

"Nao." The tone was sedate, but firm, and she glanced up, meeting those terrifying crimson pools, adrift in the private hell of her amour. Shizuru pushed her away gently, smiling, and she returned the expression. Instinct knew better than emotion, her body cringed, eyes widening a moment before the raised hand caught her across the face, sent her reeling backwards in a half-spin.

"What an ungrateful wretch, to abuse my hospitality, to turn my generosity against me." Soft and low, the words drove the air from her lungs. Her head ached, filled with the cacophony of a thousand hornets; she tried to focus, tried to pry the cool, immovable grip from the collar of her borrowed shirt as she was pulled closer to that beautiful, snarling, razor blade grin. "How dare Yuuki-chan betray me, after all I've done for her. How dare she assume my love, my misery, my suffering, my joy meant nothing – that my heart was so changeable."

The younger girl clutched her cheek, the sting of rejection warring with resentment. Her eyes narrowed, wanting to wound as she'd been wounded. "Kuga isn't capable of satisfying you. Are you an idiot, or what?" She watched her captor's face intently, noting the bait dangled ignored, that the corners of Shizuru's mouth remained immovably fixed, that the hateful glance lowered in private amusement. "Oh, I see." _They already had. She was one step behind once more, and Fujino… was a hypocrite._ "It changes nothing. Kuga won't stay; the leash doesn't suit her. Yank as hard as you like, she'll slip the noose, and leave you alone, wallowing in your stupidity."

Shizuru shook her foundling savagely, resisting the urge to shift her grip, strangle the life from this… miserable excuse of a creature. Her hand lifted a second time, a third, dimly aware Nao wasn't fighting back, hadn't declared war – her Element remained unsummoned, her face tilted down in acquiescence. Hand in hand with the anger was something purer, more meaningful for the older girl. Fear. _Will you hold my hand? _Staggering under the weight of ire, Shizuru forced her hand stationary, flicked her eyes from her tingling palm to the blood dripping down the chin of the girl in her grip. _Will you walk with me, side by side? _"Why…" _Will you stay?_ "would you say these things?" _I'm afraid, Natsuki… I'm afraid._

"I love you." The confession ripped through Nao's chest, coiled its fist through her intestines and pulled them along behind, left her breathless and bereft. She wanted to yell, to rip to tear, she wanted to rend, to bear witness to the anger boiling, humiliated, just below the surface of shock, this numb, screaming eulogy spilling from her lips – it tasted like bile, it tasted like blood, it tasted like honey. _But I can't. Or she will have already won. I can't bear it. I refuse; I refuse to let her take anything else from me._

'_There's no need to keep it a secret.'_ Shizuru bit the tip of her tongue – pain to focus beyond the moment, silence the echoes of the past. Was this her doing? Had she misled her orphan, promised familiarity _intimacy_ between them she couldn't indulge? _So much like me._ Shizuru's breath stuttered as she relived the words as they spoke themselves. "But your love is different from my love." _Do I love Nao? Am I capable of caring for more than Natsuki?_ Yes. She was, because Nao was _myself and Natsuki _like Natsuki, _as if we were joined_ a broken-winged bird in need of mending. _'Natsuki… I love you.'_

"I don't understand. Fujino is cruel, and cold, and unforgiving. You treat me like a slave, and I feel so small around you – so insignificant. The only person I can trust is myself." The hold loosened, propelled her backwards, out of harms reach, and she cringed into the wall. "I hate you. I hate what I've become." Nao's eyes rose, wide and unseeing, met the face of her saint, her sin. "I still want you." _For you to be by my side._ "What have you done to me?" Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, almost, but not quite submitting to her weakness.

_Remade you in my image._ Shizuru's stray responded best to indifference, to the iron hand in the velvet glove. Friendship, affection, demure charm – with Nao, these methods of manipulation were worthless, offered no influence within the redhead's world. She accepted this, just as she intuited less savory aspects to Nao's nature; catering to unspoken urgings, she provided lacking support, a structure to stand upon. "I understand. I'm sorry." _Was this how Natsuki felt?_

"Sorry." Nao's hands curled at her sides as she straightened. "Shizuru is so kind. Your generosity is killing me."

The tawny haired girl frowned, shook her head. She couldn't afford to let the sting of Nao's words provoke her further. _What am I? _ Guidance; Shizuru wished to lead Nao to realization: desiring companionship and caring didn't necessitate becoming lovers. Shizuru watched the muscles in the girl's jaw clench as the redhead tried to brush past, and interposed herself to block the means of escape. Nao snarled, shifting direction, and again, Shizuru barred her path. _'Why aren't you letting me go? You don't want me!'_ But she did – she wanted to keep her promise to Nao's mother, wanted to take care of this fragile, fractured bird.

Nao's palms itched, wanting to release her pent up aggression, wanting to summon her Element, carve a path through Fujino's thick skull, and yet she couldn't. _Even now… even now._ The older girl grabbed her wrist, pulled her forward, into the welcoming arms, and she trembled, holding the scream firmly locked in her throat as forlorn solitude trickled down her cheeks.

"Let me go!"

"No."

Nao sobbed quietly, trying to wrest herself from the lure of comfort, trying to distance herself from the warm, sinuous curves of Shizuru's body. "Why? Why are you tormenting me?" Infinitely gentle, soft hands stroked the back of her head, murmured; meaningless words caressed her ear, and Nao relented, relaxed into the tenderness.

"Nao-chan wouldn't take comfort from sharing my bed. What does she want?"

"I…"

"Yes. It's very confusing, to crave something without a name. Your mother…"

Nao redoubled her efforts to free herself. "My mother has nothing to do with this! Let me go!"

"Shhh, shhhh. Yuuki-san's mother loves her very much, but she isn't the person Nao remembers. She was in a coma for many years, and when she awakened…"

Nao screamed, wanting to put her hands over her ears, wanting to block out that beautiful, melodic voice, so calm, so ruthlessly truthful. _I don't want to talk about this! I don't want to think about…_

Shizuru continued speaking in Nao's ear. "She wasn't quite the same person. Yuuki-san had changed – she'd grown up, become someone Nao's mother couldn't take care of, because Nao wasn't her little girl. Yuuki-san was a stranger wearing her daughter's face."

"You don't know anything about me! About Momma."

Shizuru's voice dropped to a whisper. "Yuuki-san is so observant, so good at noticing the little details; it must have been terrible to realize she was still alone in the world, even after her most precious person returned. No one wants to be alone."

"Shut up! I don't… I'm not alone!"

"Where will you go? Yuuki-san is welcome to stay here."

Nao licked her lips, strained to create an argument that wouldn't dissolve under Fujino's fluid, inexorable logic. "I won't… District…"

"District? What do they have?" Shizuru stiffened, the restless movement of her hands stilling as she waited for an answer.

"I can get her back without your help."

"Your mother." She resumed her soothing motions, relieved. "All this, taking care of Natsuki and me, that was something District ordered?"

"No. Not District. Smith." Nao turned her head further to the side angrily. "But that wasn't why." _I didn't leave you both to die._ "I even took care of Kuga." _For you._

"Mmm. Was seducing me Nao-chan's way of asking for help to rescue her mother? I'm flattered, but she needn't have gone to such trouble." Wry and bitterly entertained, the older girl spoke the question already knowing the answer, yet she hoped later, when her foundling replayed this conversation in her thoughts, Nao would be able to follow the thread of her emotions to an honest conclusion. To this end, she would eliminate as many excuses as possible.

"What? No! No, that was just…" The redhead took a deep breath, trying to control dual impulses – to humiliate herself in chastised abasement and bark at the woman in sarcastic infuriation. "They aren't related."

Shizuru buried her face in the younger girl's hair, hiding the amused expression. "You haven't answered my question. What does Nao-chan want?" The figure in her embrace jerked, as if she'd struck again, and Shizuru loosened her hold, distanced herself far enough to catch the younger girl's reluctant glance, held it fast within the russet depths of her consideration.

"I want…" Nao tried to summon her security blanket, the sneer, without success, stumbled blindly, knowing Shizuru expected a specific response. "Baka, I already told you what I wanted."

"Did you?" Shizuru's brows drew together, and though her tone was light, almost teasing, the intensity of her stare caused Nao to look away. She grasped the younger girls chin, forcing her to face her tormentor. "Nao. Don't turn away when I'm speaking to you." The flame-faced, fiery snarl of loathing assured her she had her orphan's undivided attention.

"I don't want to be your plaything any more."

_That's completely untrue._ "So. You refuse to answer." _So stubborn._ Shizuru released Nao's face, withdrew her consideration, donning her brusque, pleasant mien.

"Wait…" _'What does one do with a broken tea cup?' _The honey-haired woman paused, inclining her head to indicate she was listening. Nao swallowed, trying to determine what she wanted. It was right there, waiting for her to acknowledge its presence, yet elusive, slippery – as if, as if… _I would be betraying my loyalty if I spoke it aloud._ Her lip trembled. She stared at the hollow of Shizuru's throat, trying to form the thought into words. "I want…"

"I want you to take your goddamn hands off Shizuru and step away."


	17. Chapter 17 : Awakenings

**Author's Notes:**

Today is my birfday (August 29th – don't look at me in that tone. It's still yesterday out west, and home is where the heart is)! As such, in celebration of being one year older (yet no wiser, more's the pity) I share with you my greatest gift, in appreciation of your continued readership – an update to our long languished story.

Tis late (or early for I), and I've been in labor pains for some weeks now, ponderously waddling through the words, suffering light headed spells and anemia of the soul – please forgive me if my customary eloquence fails to convey how grateful I am to be one chapter closer to our closing curtain, and how delighted I am to offer it unto you, on this day, as a token of my affection.

Special thanks to everyone who reviewed _If There Be Humor!_ I'm tickled folks liked it. Especially those it was written for. _::grins impishly::_ And to those that offered me invaluable technical advice: _::offers a paper rose::_ Arigatou.

To those that pondered overmuch upon my endless teasing of Kuga/Kruger-san, I offer this remuneration: Natsuki is well loved, and I dwell humorously upon her failings merely because we share many of the same defects, she and I.

As always, my greatest thanks and appreciation goes to Felisse (dubbed The Beta of Steel by someone I trust), for her hours of relentless encouragement, rearrangement, and generally putting up with my sorry self while I hewed and hawed, bucked, bristled and bemoaned my lacks. Without this, the words you read might very well have caused blindness, premature balding, or any number of unsavory side effects. _::bows::_ I am, as always, forever in your debt.

Happy Birthday, everyone!

This chapter dwells on the ineffable, adds greater depth to our questions of fate, introduces a theory, a pact, a speculation, and moves the hands of the clock closer by one. Sit, dine with me for a spell, and should the meal be hearty, the story satisfying, offer grace (or simply prayer) that the next course may be served after a (much) shorter intermission.

* * *

**Chapter 17**

Haruka was having a terrible, horrible, very bad day. The mother of all Mondays. Except this wasn't a Monday, it was a Wednesday, and everything should be running smoothly; a well oiled, finely tuned machine, a machine Haruka took personal responsibility for, maintained with firmness and dedication. With as much effort as she put into these things _her life_, the day should be positively rolling over and doing tricks – fetch, chase, or, as she thought at the moment, playing dead, and yet, here she was, carrying a large stack of folders that one of the new interns _one of the few who didn't yet know who I am_ had dumped on her as soon as she'd left the sanctuary of her office, obviously thinking she was another of the interns. Which was just… _god damn annoying is what it was_.

It was, in point of fact, the worst day she could recall having since she'd been in high school, laboring uselessly under that _bubuzuke_ Fujino woman. Haruka shifted the weight in her hands, searching for another intern, and when she spotted one leaning against the water cooler, she stormed over and handed the pile to the startled looking gentleman, telling him, rather forcibly, where he should deliver them.

"Don't just stand there looking at me, like you have no idea what I'm saying. Get to work! Don't you have any plagiarism?"

The man blinked several times, glancing from the folders in his hands, to the brusque, annoyed woman standing in front of him with her hands on her hips, and back again. "Huh?" The harridan's foot tapped impatiently, her nostrils flaring, as one might expect from a bull before it charges, and the man laughed nervously as he edged backwards down the hall, beating a hasty, if not completely panic-stricken, retreat.

Haruka harrumphed, completely disappointed in the current batch of helpers they'd gotten. Well, she'd gotten, actually. _I wonder why that went so badly? They all seemed fine on paper._ Misrepresentation, that's what it was, an egregious case of false advertising. Sad really, but unworthy of stewing over; she washed her hands of the situation as the man scuttled around the corner. It was not part of her duties, but she'd been keenly interested in hiring procedures, and managed to bully her way into _taking over_ incorporating the human resources department. A week later, her curiosity was sated, and she felt it was better to turn her attention to more pressing matters, but not before the campaign was inundated with Haruka's crop of employees.

Perhaps they did not enjoy the work; not everyone would, it was to be expected. Not that Haruka disliked her job; quite the contrary. After graduating from Fuuka, there had been an interminable period where she had absolutely no idea what she wanted to do. Not particularly interested in following _that effing bubuzuke woman, with her perfect marks, and her 'I'm so surprised at this turn of events' hand-to-cheek commiserative expression, like three points gave her bragging rights, three goddamn points_ Fujino to university, Haruka toyed with the idea of seeking an education elsewhere, but in the end, it was all so tedious, and she was anxious to get started making a difference in the world. She'd declined her father's offer to join him at the Suzushiro's Offices with polite, sidesplitting laughter, and gone for a great many soul-searching constitutionals.

It was on one of these walks that she'd met the General. Having decided it was a little too cold to go for a walkabout with her hands exposed to the biting wind, she had been glancing down, searching for her jacket pockets to warm them in, when she bumped into him as he stood close to the lake, feeding the _more foolhardy_ few remaining ducks. In truth, she hadn't been that impressed with him from appearances – his choice of winter apparel seemed somehow… frumpy to her, even through he was immaculately groomed, and had a rather rakish fringe of salt-and-pepper curls framing each ear.

The blond had courteously apologized for disturbing him, secretly thinking he should watch where she was going, and been just about to continue on her way when he pressed three somewhat musty slices of bread into her hands and demanded that her repayment take the form of company, at least until this loaf was gone.

"Why bother feeding them? They're just going to starve when winter sets in."

"Because I have nothing better to do with my time than encourage the beggars into staying, and making the world a more beautiful place."

So had begun their relationship, and somewhere in the course of that incredibly illogical conversation, he had related tales of his time in the military, how he'd seen the quiet yearning in the eyes of those he encountered to be more than what life gave them, but society was too entrenched in itself, in old, useless patterns of behavior and corruption, to notice. And that was why he was currently running for Cabinet Minister in the Ministry of Justice, because his people, the people he swore to protect, posed a greater threat to themselves than any foreign invader could possibly be.

Of course that was complete nonsense. _Perhaps he doesn't know any better. _How could people within a system pose a greater threat to one another than falling prey to system itself, if the system contradicted the very common sense upon which it was founded? It stood to reason, if the system was incorruptible, the populace would be spared the moral quandaries of debate, and could find contentment, pride, in being productive, upstanding citizens of this utopia. Her utopia. Something she sensed this man could accomplish. There was just something about this man, some core of moral righteousness, that beckoned to her – he could, with proper supervision, do great works. Great works she wanted to be a part of.

When the man had wished her luck in her endeavors, her mouth had opened to volunteer herself to his campaign. Haruka has no idea why, precisely; perhaps if she'd been prone to controlled introspection, she might have concluded it was a rather feeble bid to effect order in the current chaos of her life – that the current state of floundering had much less to do with honest desires to make the world a better place, and much more to do with beating her non-conformist lifestyle choice back into conforming with the world around her. But she was not, and Yukino wasn't there to pick up the slack, so when Haruka decided her assistance was required, and the General had accepted, it was because she was 'doing the right thing.'

"Because doing the right thing is the most impotent responsibility," she muttered to herself.

* * *

It wasn't so much the inconvenience of relying on mass transit, it was just time consuming – time better spent doing… well, something productive. Of course, she _could_ have renewed her license, taken the initiative and spent boring hours waiting for a turn to give her side of the story – something the Driver's Licensing Center hadn't listened to four years ago, but Midori was no longer the wild and unrestrained youth she'd been in college. _Before I was kicked out._ _I wonder how big a fine I'd get for joy-riding Gakutenou without a license? _She laughed at this thought, scratching the back of her head, and the man sitting adjacent gave her an odd, subtly scornful glance as he shifted away from her in his seat. 

Midori's half-conceived grin blossomed into a full bouquet, and her self amused laugh gained length and width, expanding to fill the stagnant silence surrounding the few midday passengers on the bus, turning heads and claiming stares, some curious, others concerned, most simply wondering why she couldn't hush, like a proper, well mannered lunatic. But that had never been her – not now in the prime of her 'seventeenth' _twenty-seventh_ year, nor when the jovial response, "I'm seventeen!", had been true, and she flitted from one academic interest to another, diligently studying for _tried to get out of _college entrance exams _stuffing the cram school brochures as far to the back in my closet as I could, so Papa wouldn't find them_, nor even when she was much, much younger, living out her childhood across the ocean to the West, contentedly munching bowls of Lucky Charms as she memorized every moment of Super Sentai Saturday morning cartoons.

When the laughter died, she slipped beside the man who seemed so very intent on ignoring her, tapping her finger on the glass to direct everyone's attention towards the marketplace they were just now passing; her voice continued, beginning with: "Did you know, this area…", and didn't pause until she disembarked, smiling and waving to the small cluster of passengers who'd gathered round her to hear the amusing historical anecdotes as they wound their way through downtown Fuuka.

"I love history," she murmured to herself as she walked the remaining few blocks to Fuuka Academy. Midori made friends wherever she went.

* * *

Tate walked slowly over to his bunk, ignoring the slight untidiness of his room. He glanced at the digital alarm nested amidst a pile of loose papers, paused at his writing desk, curling his fingers around the back of the wooden chair shoved haphazardly underneath. This didn't feel like his room – had the air of disorder he associated with others less precise than he'd conditioned himself to be. _More like how I was in high school,_ he supposed. As comforting as these thoughts were, even these observations weren't accurate; the clothes strewn across the floor may reminded him of who he'd been _once upon a time_, subtly softening the appearance of the cage he inhabited, existed in uneasy alliance with the sharp edges, the metallic tang of meticulously recycled air, the windowless landscape military accommodations provided. 

Fingers tightened on the spine of the chair as he leaned over the desk, checking his phone. Two messages. _I must be loved,_ he thought sourly, disgustedly burying his phone under a flurry of equally ignored papers. His knee throbbed, sent lancing spikes of discomfort through the left side of his leg. One of the papers fluttered to the floor, and he stooped to retrieve it, bracing his bad leg to save himself the agony of it bending, his eyes wandering to the corner where his shinai leaned, silently mocking him.

_I should have thrown that damn thing away._ Perhaps, but he hadn't been able to carry through with this act – it was the last scrap of his former life he'd allowed himself to cling to, a keepsake, a memento of simpler times, which were, though painful in their own right, at least… _happy_ something he could claim as his own. Limping, his feet pulled him closer to this sanctuary, this symbol of sanity _before the world turned into a place where it became necessary to blow my best friend's brains out, before Mai and Shiho descended into the madness leading to…_

His palm caressed the leather wrapped handle almost lovingly, reaching to remove the bamboo sword from its canvas covering. He hefted the faux blade, imagining, as he had during the tournaments he'd attended, that this was an actual katana, that the sounds of wood meeting wood, distant and echoing down the corridors of memory, carried within them sharper clang of ringing steel. That sparring was an act of battle, his spirit carrying him forward as the body followed along its destined path.

He brought the shinai down in a sharp arc, took a step forward, balancing his weight between his feet, centered himself deep within his midsection, ignoring the warning pains shooting up his leg. _If I'd stayed true, none of this would have happened. I would have returned to kendo, Mai would have won her Carnival, Shiho… _Shiho what? Yuichi grimaced, bringing the weapon down twice more; quick, savagely controlled strokes. _You think it was that simple? You still think there were easy decisions; that they would have made a difference?_

"No such thing," he muttered, grunting as his left leg gave out underneath him, flaring in agony. _No such thing as an easy out. Just lots of easy failures._ Like the time he'd called out to Mai, when Kanzaki was about to kiss her. He hadn't even the courage, at that moment, to use her given name, rationalizing it to himself later that she hadn't offered him that familiarity – and yet, the look in her eyes, as she tried to explain herself, as if she were the guilty party, and there he'd been in all his male-wounded-pride glory, incapable of saying what he felt _choose me, dammit_.

_Let's not even go into how much worse Shiho was hurt during that desperate, chest-beating spectacle._ Tate snarled, straightening his leg as much as possible before propping himself upright with the bamboo in his hands. "I don't have time for this." _And you never made the time, did you? Never made the time for me, the time I begged for; not even after you knew how I felt about you. Onii-chan is so selfish._

That wasn't true. He'd spent most of his time with Shiho after the Carnival was done with them, spent hours and days and months trying to mend her broken heart, much to Mai's dismay. She'd warned him, amaranthine censure, that giving in to Shiho's pleading wouldn't solve anything. He just… couldn't. He couldn't bear to see her suffering. It wasn't as though he didn't _realize_ he was being unfair: badgering Mai into irrevocably casting Kanzaki aside, while he hid behind rationalized excuses, smoothing over his time with Shiho; tried to worm his way out of one girl's affections, while placating his way into the other's bed.

_Was it any wonder Mai turned distant every time I tried to sleep with her?_ No, not really; there were only so many ways one can bend before something breaks._ Did any of it matter?_ Not now. Tate grunted, looking down at the fake wooden sword in his hands, noted its frailty – he hadn't cared for it properly, and the bamboo had dried to the point of becoming brittle. He laughed, bringing the shinai down sharply across his knee, watched as it splintered and shredded, finally breaking in two, held together by a few stubborn fibers.

He tossed the useless reminder of his past into the corner, settling himself carefully on the edge of the bed. "It doesn't matter to me. I don't care." And, for once in his life, he didn't.

* * *

There was, in all things, a form of symmetry – a sense of completeness only experienced in pairs: hopeful despair, victorious defeat, absence denying what absolution bought – the past, the present, the future. Time had its own set of laws, a fluidity of movement unbound by the necessity of opposites, stretched its fingers outward to touch ubiquitous possibility, like water, and was just as impossible to grasp. But it could be calculated, to the tiniest, most insignificant tick. 

Miyu closed her eyes, listening to the song as it wound around her, tingled auditory sensors. She lost herself in the weave of frequencies, air vibrating as it escaped between Alyssa's lips, hung in fragile, luminous streams between them as they sat, side by side. _'Who are those little girls in pain.'_ The words themselves held no meaning for her, though Miyu remembered the lyrics well enough. It had been she who taught them, _"Sing for me"_, ruffling the hair of the blond angel as cerulean eyes quietly begged for distraction from pain.

_"__Yes, ojousama."_

And so she'd opened her mouth, unsure even as the words emerged, what she should sing, yet this tune came to her easily, awed and amazed the then three year old girl, who trembled, bravely holding out her arm, whimpering in growing discomfort as the hormone treatments continued. _'Like flowers that blossom just once in years.'_

_"__Ojousama is very brave."_

Miyu could recall each of these moments in crystalline clarity, undiluted by the erosion of human memory, just as she could remember gathering Alyssa's hair behind the frail, bowed neck as the child vomited, supporting the shivering frame of her mistress, perched over the rim of the toilet, held the girl in a gentle, protective embrace as the night sweats and fevers swept through her tiny frame, treated the bruises and injected stolen narcotics into over-taxed musculature as Alyssa screamed, her body struggling to endure accelerated growth.

'_They've never been allowed to love.'_ Stress patterns alerted her to a shift in mood, and Miyu's eyes opened, anxiously scanning the child beside her for injury, their surroundings for potential commination.

The golden angel's face was tilted down, hair screening her features from view, delicate fingers curled over the edge of the bench, trembling as Alyssa tightened her grip. Miyu had the urge to brush the obstruction behind Alyssa's ear, wanting to see the other's face clearly. Miyu's hand lifted, following thought with action, but paused midway, jerked to a stop, brandy eyes dulling as the image in her memory suppressed actuality, superimposed one visage atop the other.

_Accessing…_

_A woman, perhaps the same age as Miyu's appearance – perhaps a bit older, with strawberry- platinum hair, and sad, sad eyes. Eyes the color of cloudless climes on a cold winter's day. Fingers reached to brush snarled bangs away from that flawless, wounded face, to comfort, to banish enduring woes, traced the scar bisecting young woman's upper lip. _She knew these to be her own hands, even as her sensors tripped, overloading from the glut of incoming stimuli.

_Accessing…__download in progress._

She inhaled sharply, stiffening as the system crashed, her pupils narrowing, focusing on the appendage suspended between them, closed and opened her fist, listening to the faint electronic whirr of well-maintained machinery. Lingered recollection, sensory confusion – _silken strands damp from weeping, the warmth against her palm as she stroked away the fears._ _Alyssa's face, shaped and reformed by the passage of years _The hum grew to a whine as fingertips rubbed against one another in tactile fascination. Cooling tears.

_Tracing source files._

'_They're dancing in the shadows, like whispers of love._' One face. Many faces. The details were sketchy, obscure, flashed and faded within the span of compressor cycles. She couldn't seize them independently from the jumbled data overheating her processors. Breathing raggedly, Miyu unlocked her high-speed memory access struggling to control the flow of information. The whine deepened into a thrum, echoing through her circuits like a heartbeat. Each face bore slight differences, a shade there, a pigment here; only the eyes were consistent, and that scar, curving like a question mark under her mistress's nose. And Miyu knew, she knew for each instance how the injury had occurred.

_Trace complete – source unknown._

_When were those memories obtained? _ Every moment was strictly chronicled, timestamped to within a microsecond of their creation for efficient retrieval, unvarying and unchangeable – the basis upon which her learning algorithms evolved. These images, fading even as she desperately wrote them to storage, held no such proof, provided no means of verification that they were, in fact her own. Yet she understood, beyond the limitations of her programming, they belonged to her.

"Ojousama…" The child turned her head to glance up at her guardian through the fringe of hair between them. Alyssa's expression was pensive, insecure, and once again Miyu reached for the child, momentarily startled at the scar's absence. _It hasn't happened._ But it would. Soon. Of that Miyu had no doubt.

"Is it all right, what we're doing?"

A thousand voices speaking this phrase _confirmed, Alyssa Searrs voice pattern_, as it had been spoken a thousand times before. Miyu's arm wrapped around smaller shoulders as her golden angel crawled into her lap, allowing the android to fold Alyssa into the security of her embrace. The answer never varied; not once.

"I will protect Ojousama, and stay by her side, forever."

* * *

In some ways, in every conceivable way that mattered, the inexorable tumble of events leading to this moment seemed hideously preordained. As inescapable as death, as relentless as taxes, as comically _meticulously_ _con_scripted as a Shakespearean play. If one were to assume there were forces at work beyond the mortal ken, opposing wills of ineffable intent, one might catch the pattern, feel one's foot depress the pressure plate of fate a fraction before crumbling reality gave way beneath, casting them into the darkness waiting below. 

He leaned against the wall as he exited sub-Director's new office, trying to ignore the stiffness across his shoulders, the building indignity of being caught in the vortex of a storm he couldn't quite wrap his fingers around. Nothing was simple or straightforward, the comforting sameness of his life had turned backside round, leaving no constant he could seize to rectify the situation.

Smith's words rankled. He'd suggested, again, that they bring Natsuki in, remove her from harm's way before coincidence removed her from their tenuous protection. It hadn't mattered – he'd been shot down, reprimanded for his awkward affections. _"If you have a grievance with our methods, you should take it up with the new Director."_

"A grievance," he muttered – as if this were high school, and he could go rattling the administrator's cage, complain that he wasn't getting his tuitions worth. Yet another proof of his _overwhelming youth_ destructive, glaring incompetence It was true he wasn't thrilled with Searrs Corp's actions, nor his _compliance_ involvement, leading to the current stalemate they found themselves in, but brushing off his concerns… It wasn't fair. He'd already bled in the line of duty, given unswerving allegiance, and his reward, that thing _person_ he'd been promised was no closer to being attained.

It hadn't always been this way. As a third year student in high school, he'd had a completely different plan for his life. Never exceptionally gifted in academics, he'd had other abilities to rely on – his martial prowess, for one. After winning the National Kendo Tournament for the third year in a row, he'd had prospects: a full ride through university, if he so chose, or an entry-level position in several companies participating in corporate sponsored athletic events. As daunting as the former had seemed, he'd quickly jumped at the latter, and the rest, as they say, was history.

The real surprise, as far as he was concerned, had come in the form of a hand written letter inviting him to an interview with Searrs Corporation. Vague and enticing, the wording had been obscure, but the offer itself was irresistible. So he'd borrowed one of his father's suits and stood fidgeting beneath the somewhat soothing, somewhat intimidating stare of the receptionist – a woman he shortly became convinced existed for the sole purpose of proving his grand dreams were meaningless, bound to be crushed under the wheels of progress.

He'd been so preoccupied with this unnerving certainty, he'd almost bolted from the room as the petite woman rose, betraying him to fortune with a demure smile and a bow, closing the door behind him.

"Mr. Smith."

His impression of the man who would groom into his current position hadn't changed once from the moment of their meeting _this is a man who would stop at nothing to secure his place in history._ He could surf the wake of the shark's progress, or be devoured by it. "The choice is yours, but Searrs would welcome your unique talents in our upcoming projects." The demon's mouth had widened, exposing impeccably white teeth as well manicured fingers briskly closed the folder he'd been holding. He'd swallowed, watching those hands as they paused their motions, tapping distractedly atop the neatly arranged papers. He'd discovered early in the interview he couldn't meet the other man's eyes for any length of time without a cold sheen of sweat pricking along the back of his neck.

His mind had, in actuality, completely wandered away, but was brought up short by the mention of a name, one he recognized, and he'd stiffened, fists clenching at his sides.

"Please forgive my rudeness, Director. What were you saying?"

"I was wondering how you were acquainted with the Kuga family. Kuga-san is a valuable business partner; it was on his recommendation that we researched your resume. Perhaps you knew his daughter? I believe she also attended Fuuka Gakuen."

"You manipulative bastard." It was becoming increasingly clear Smith had no intention of allowing him anywhere near _his beloved princess_ Kuga. Restless, he ran fingers through his hair as he made his way back to the small corner cupboard they'd assigned him in lieu of an actual office. The catch clicked, and he was once again left to his own devices; his eyes closed as he sank into the chair, more than willing to set this conundrum behind him for a bit and take a short nap. The phone jarred him back to consciousness, and he jumped, wondering what the pale-eyed shark wanted to browbeat him with now. He debated not answering it at all, but duty won over cynical conjecture and he lifted the receiver.

"Yes sir?"

Unnervingly high-pitched laughter floated across the line and he stiffened, reaching over to flip the lock on his door. "I told you not to call me here! They keep recordings of incoming and outgoing calls."

"Masashi, that's no way to greet a friend! We are friends, aren't we?" The amusement hadn't faded, merely changed form – he could still hear in the boy's voice. "I'd hate to think what could happen if we decided to be enemies."

_Get to the point, you little brat._ "Of course we're friends."

"I'm so glad to hear that. You took care of that problem we discussed? We can't have that Searrs trash running loose."

Teeth ground as his fingers tightened on the phone. "Yes," he hissed. "I installed it personally during the last maintenance cycle."

"Good boy!" The laughter returned and he shuddered. "Natsuki would be so proud of you – you're turning into a worthy champion. Have to protect your dearest one."

"Homura." _Don't bait me._ The name slipped from his lips like a curse. He felt defiled even speaking it, but like most punishments, some things must be borne in pursuit of the greater good. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead; a dull ache was settling in just behind his right eye, causing the muscles underneath to involuntarily twitch.

"Oooo, so scary when you're angry, Takeda-kun." There was a pause before the voice continued, and he wondered if the creature on the other end were taunting him, or merely mocking. "You've spoken with Alyssa-chan?"

"Yes. I've told her the assignment is a lure to get her out into the open – that Smith probably wants to remove her to get his position back."

"Do you think she believed you?"

The ache turned into seething, stabbing agony, shooting down the right side of his neck. "Does it matter?"

"Hmmm… not really. Suggestion is a funny thing, isn't it?"

It was his turn to laugh; bitter and resentful, he recalled quite clearly the devil's bargain he'd struck with this monster. _Anything for the chance. Just a chance. Natsuki, I don't want you to get any further into this mess than you already are._

"Make sure you follow them to their little family reunion. It's close now… when the time comes you'll cut her strings. I shouldn't have to remind you what will happen to our poor little plan if they find you." The voice had taken on a nasty undertone, and his lips thinned in distaste. "Then again, if Pinocchio gets her hands on you, you won't have much to worry about at all."

* * *

Lunch had been a disappointment – as it was almost every day. She'd sat alone, as was her custom, and been disturbed _only_ twice to put out tiny fires that could have waited until after she'd eaten her tasteless meal in solitude, of which she'd reminded them ina mildly perturbed half-bellow, before chalking the meal up to a lost cause, and _thankfully_ decided to return to her office. Which was how she came to be in the hallway, within sight of the uninformed gopher who tried to get her to do their job for them, but now she'd reversed the tables on the lazy, misbegotten lot of them, hadn't she? _Damn skippy._ Haruka smiled in private self-congratulation, nodding her head once, firmly. 

"Suzushiro-san… Suzushiro-san." Haruka blinked at the man with wavy salt-and-pepper hair, realizing she hadn't returned to her office as she'd intended, but had been standing in the middle of the hallway for Kami knew how long, lost in some idiotic reverie. _Why do these things always happen to me?_ Her lips drew themselves into a small pucker of displeasure as she panicked, wondering if this would be viewed as 'wasting company time'.

"Yes, General, I was just on my way to see you." There, that sounded efficient.

"Ah? Well, then, I'll just have to make some time, won't I?" She was still uneasy, finding his charismatic, affable mannerisms more off-putting than relaxing, but that was the way he was, and she could endure. He hesitated, perhaps expecting a different reaction. "Please." Politely directing hands held his office door open, and she accepted the invitation, preferring to stand than sit. Fingers smoothed her skirt as she collected her thoughts, taking a deep breath to prepare her report.

"General…"

"Are you all right?"

"Ahh, huh?" Caught off guard, she blinked at her employer stupidly for the second time in five minutes, wondering if the flush of embarrassment were as obvious as it felt. She sniffed dismissively. "Of course I'm all right; perfectly capable of performing my duties to the latter of the law." Flicking her wrist briskly, she attempted to begin her recitation a second time, and was once again stymied.

"You seem preoccupied, Suzushiro-san, and that's not like you. I was beginning to worry." His hands spread in a placating gesture as he continued, and she watched those movements as if mesmerized. "It is not my place to give personal advice, of course, but you know, harmony begins in the home. Are you and Kikukawa-san having…"

The man watched his personal secretary's jaw clench so tightly he could swear he heard tendons snap. "Forgive me, that was rude. Your concerns are your own." He sighed, settling back into his chair, and resting his fingertips lightly on the edge of the desk. "I believe you could use some time off. Spend some time relaxing. Things have been so hectic around here lately – it's putting a great deal of stress on everyone."

The blond haired woman in front of him struggled to control her temper, and he was tempted to chuckle. He didn't, of course – Haruka would no doubt interpret any sign of amusement as ridicule; she'd become even more recalcitrant. "I'm fine. I've been a little tired recently, but I don't think that's any reason to send me home when there's work to be done."

"Haruka-san, you're taking this the wrong way. I'm not sending you home. I'm encouraging you to get the rest you need, now, while we're ahead. I need everyone to be _here_ for the next few months. Do you understand?"

"But…"

He lifted his hand, and she stomped her foot. It was a subtle thing, barely noticeable, but he'd built his career on just such observations. "If anything goes wrong, you're just a phone call away. Please accept this reward for all your hard work." She couldn't possibly refuse, and judging by the scowl on her face, she realized this. He'd always thought she had a beautiful face, one of the many reasons he'd accepted her into his fold, and she'd matured considerably, even in the six months he'd known her, but right now it was hard to tell.

"Yes, General." The tone was hiemal. She didn't like being told what to do.

"If there's anything I can do, any help or assistance I can provide, you'll let me know, won't you. Sometimes," his hand waved, as if to illustrate a vague point he couldn't quite define, "it's difficult to work through personal issues on one's own." His fingers tapped rhythmically on the edge of the desk. "I'm sure it's nothing serious, but if you want another point of view, it can't hurt to ask. Nothing changes in a vacuum."

* * *

Tate rolled over into a sitting position, cradling his head. He didn't remember falling asleep, but here it was, some unknown hours later than when he'd sat on the edge of his bed, head sagging between the tension in his shoulder blades as he tried, without success, to come up with some sort of conclusion regarding Akane. All he remembered was the crushing weight of his indecision, the futility of every action he'd taken or ignored, leading up to this unwieldy burden his CO had laid squarely at his feet. It wasn't a responsibility he wanted, and though part of his mind continued to rail against the unfairness of it all, how he'd earned better than this, it was still his and his alone. 

_Alone, that's what I am._ The same as Mai, the same as Fujino _Shizuru_, with her sad, wounded eyes following the smallest movement of her unrequited love, desperately trying to bury the truth under a charade of laconic smiles, and soft, acquiescent sighs. He'd never challenged the kaichou with the frailty of her deception, taking cues from his sponsor. It was an unspoken law: Reito knew best, but he'd watched the pair of HiME, thinking them both fools. _Was I any better?_ He grimaced, scraping his hand angrily across the thin stubble prickling his chin. _No, I wasn't, but I wasn't any worse either._ Small comfort, considering the way things had worked out. _At least I didn't go on a homicidal killing spree._

That part of his mind that staunchly refused the burden of his own sins wondered sourly if that wouldn't have been a better solution – just throw it all away, chaff and wheat and stalk, having no need to listen to Higurashi's laughter melt into gut-wrenching howls as the jagged pulses of electricity dutifully ripped away her hold on sanity, one fingernail at a time. No need for cool, steady fingers to absorb the jerk of the gun as Kazuya's body bucked under the impact of the bullet. No need to suffer the panic afterwards, that moment of _ohshitohshit_ floundering, his body making the decision of how best to silence the new fully awake HiME, by smothering her under the corpse of her dead lover, while his hands tremblingly shook out the hypodermic that would restore blessed silence.

Knuckles hit the wall as his fist pushed these thoughts back into the hungry darkness. Wallowing wasn't going to solve anything. What was done was done – it's not like lingering over the past _the ease of the shorter girl's smile as she brushed her hair behind her ear, standing on her tip toes to give her boyfriend a quick kiss on the cheek_ would change anything _his best friend's easy laughter as he clipped Tate on the shoulder, telling Yuuichi to be himself, and Tokiha would come around_.

"Goddammit, what was I supposed to do? I didn't want her to wind up like…" He voice trailed off, digging the heel of his palm against his forehead for a moment. He was so tired of listening to the sound of his voice. No one offered him an answer, but that wasn't a great surprise; his only company was the ticking of the clock, and the subliminal whine of the cooling system, bringing him his daily allowance of processed air.

The vibration skittering across the floor halted further introspection, and he grabbed the cell phone wondering if he should be grateful for the distraction. He flipped the device open and pressed it close to his ear without bothering to check the identity of the caller. Of all the uncertainties complicating his life, he was sure of one thing. It couldn't possibly get any worse.

* * *

Getting into the Administration building was going to be slightly more complicated than she'd originally anticipated. For one thing, it was lunchtime for most of the student body _forgot about that_, and were she detected, someone was bound to recognize her. For another, her disguise – which she was very proud of, as it incorporated all the romanticized elements she'd read or seen on TV, including a wig – appeared to be more conspicuous than just skulking about in her usual double-agent archeologist ensemble. 

Midori ducked behind the corner so quickly she almost tripped, panting in agitation as she pressed herself into the wall, closing her eyes in an effort to become invisible.

"Did you see where he went, that strange person?"

"I thought I saw something over by the equipment lockers…"

"How scary! I wonder if that lingerie burglar from a few years ago came back?"

She listened to the half elated, half frightened squeals melt into the endless hum of conversation, breathing a sigh of relief. _Sneaking around is so much easier at night._ Realizing she might, just maybe, have bitten off more than she could chew, she crept around the building, fumbled behind her back to lift the window, and dove head first through the opening, surfing over the top of Youko's desk on a wave of papers and landed, face first, at the startled nurse's feet.

"Ita ta ta ta tai…"

Youko blinked, sandwich suspended half way to her mouth, as Midori rubbed her head, muttering in discomfort. A pause suspended between them as their eyes met, vibrated between Midori's lips as an embarrassed smile melted across her face. The redhead laughed softly, fingers unconsciously lifting to scratch the side of her chin.

"Midori?"

_Caught me._ "Yo. I found you." Gears ground as she struggled to come up with an excuse that wouldn't seem more ridiculous than she already felt. The nurse watched her impassively, and Midori felt a trickle of sweat tickle her ear as it dripped through her hair. "I was thinking maybe you wanted some company for lunch…"

"Midori?"

Sighing softly, Midori retrieved herself from her position on the floor, glancing anxiously out the window, only relaxing once she was confident her escape hadn't been discovered. She settled comfortably on the edge of Youko's desk, folding her arms across her chest.

The dark haired woman's lips pressed together for a fraction of a moment before she bent to gather the papers her friend's entrance had scattered over the floor, watching her companion with peripheral vision honed by years of observing sneaky teenagers. "Do I want to know what you're doing here?"

Midori grinned, taking the papers from Youko's fingers and arranged them neatly on the desk. "Probably not."

"Mmm."

The bland expression on Youko's face was making Midori anxious, and after a silent battle of wills, Midori folded one of her legs under her thigh, relenting. "I need to get into the records room."

"I see." The nurse closed her eyes for a moment, a small smile curling the corner of her lip before she realized her stony expression had crumbled. _I never could stay angry with her._

Midori, sensing the shift in mood, nodded solemnly. "I need to do some research…"

"Midori…" The redhead winced, realizing she wasn't quite out of jeopardy from the sharpness of tone. "Did it ever occur to you that you could have just asked me to get whatever you're looking for?"

Another nervous laugh. "Yeah. But where's the fun in that?" Youko quietly counted to ten. "Besides, I have a plan." Youko counted to one hundred.

* * *

Boredom had taken up near permanent residence, was, in fact, in the process of building a summer home somewhere between _I could care less_, and _I wonder if Sensei would notice if I committed seppuku with my pencil?_ She doodled, listening to the instructor's voice drone on about proper verb tense in English sentence structure, thinking how backward these Americans were. A face formed itself under her pencil, as it so often did, one with soft, warm eyes and a bashful grin. She could almost picture him in her mind, this image, as it created itself upon her sketchpad. Him leaning against the wall, laughing with casual ease. Something the real Takumi hadn't been able to do in _forever _a good long time. 

Akira couldn't remember the last time his smiles hadn't held the aftertaste of melancholy, a flavor of apprehension she could almost taste in his quick, nervous movements, in the silence between his answers to her repeated questions to his mood. It made her heartsick. It made her furious. It made her lonely.

And this was all somehow _his_ fault, the one who'd absented, forsaken them, without so much as a word of explanation, merely shaken the dust of the past from his heels and moved on to let the rest of them flounder in the sea of _lies_ mystery he'd left behind. _Too many unknowns. Baka… Tate._

Wheedling his number out of her clanmates had cost her a several favors, and she chafed under the burden of additional obligations. Glancing distractedly at the clock, she wished time would a) move faster, b) hold still long enough for her to escape the class or c) provide her with distraction interesting enough to compensate for not being able to perform a) or b).

"So as you can see, in this instance runs would be incorrect…"

The first drops of water that splattered over the back of her hand didn't even register, though her fingers had better sense than her brain – they hurriedly closed the binding, protecting her drawings even as her head tilted up to confirm that it was, in actuality, raining indoors. Girls screamed and covered their heads, while the boys cursed and shouted for permission to leave the room. The classroom was empty before Akira grumpily took in her surroundings.

Shoving the sketchpad securely into her backpack, she sighed and banged her forehead on the desk. _Be careful what you wish for… I hate karma.  
_

* * *

The man whom Haruka called General watched the stormy exit of his personal secretary without notable expression. He might have smiled, because there was appreciation of the spectacle dancing somewhere behind his eyes, or his lip might have twitched, the right corner lifting away from his teeth in aversion, as that, too, moved behind the blank screen of his expression. However, like most emotions, these never once surfaced to the skin, and it was probably for the best. After all, she might have turned to give him an appraising once over, re-evaluate her current state of employment, if her foundation was shoved with enough force. And that would never do – he'd spent too long cultivating Suzushiro as a contact. 

A means to an end; an end to their means. The door closed with carefully modulated fury. He caught a flash of pale _paler _skin as Haruka's skirt swirled through the diminishing gap, her fingers locked on the handle in a white-knuckled death grip, shoulders set in a hunched line of defiance as the crack thinned, thinned, and was gone. He breathed a sigh of relief, collapsing back into his chair in a boneless heap. This skirmish was over, and he was the victor _by inches_, he reminded himself. She was getting harder and harder to direct – it was a good thing fate limited itself to working within a time frame, or something, probably many things, would go terribly, terribly wrong.

"Is that what you think?"

He didn't bother turning to acknowledge the silhouette standing primly by the window, half-turned as it _presumably_ admired the architecture of the parking lot. It was impossible to say for sure what motivations went through those androgynous, sexless features, what thoughts boiled and boiled in toil through that troubled alien mind. Still, it wasn't wise to treat his 'visitor' as the intruder he _it_ was – nuisances had a way of coming back to bite one where one least expected it.

The General walked to the cabinet on the wall, withdrew a bottle of amber fluid, poured a generous helping into a shot glass. He smiled, eyes closing as he sipped the anesthetic. _Yes, that's exactly what I think._

The figure by the window laughed, perched hands on its hips _like a girl_ as it leaned forward a few inches, studying him. "How wonderfully short sighted you are!" The voice was grating, poked under his skin with malicious bamboo barbs, and he braced his free hand on the counter to keep himself upright, clutching the tumbler as he lifted it to his lips. It was better if he didn't think about it. It was better if he didn't think at all.

"Ne ne… tell me, when this is over, what do you think you want? We'll all get what we want, in the end."

The General wondered if the boy-girl thing were smiling that odd, rapacious sneer, avidly studying him for some semblance of familiarity, some hint he was no longer himself. "I want to be left alone."

"As you wish." The thing was definitely grinning. It bowed in a courtly fashion and hopped up to the windowsill, taking a step, one step forward into oblivion, into death had it been human – this room was five stories above the hustle and bustle of the streets below. "For now." And then it was gone, a brief, horrific tangent into a fractured psyche, as if it had never been at all, and he'd imagined the encounter. _Into the mouth of chaos_.

What did he want? He wanted to save the world, one demon at a time. He might have laughed if it had been funny. He might have laughed until he cried.

* * *

_Better not to get Youko involved_, Midori thought to herself as she flipped through the files, studying the lines of script carefully. _Let's see, Fujino…_ She grunted to herself in satisfaction. _I was right. She's currently attending Fuuka University._ And here was Natsuki, and Yukino; the Director was overseas, but would return in the next few days, and, as she lived on campus in the rebuilt mansion, she'd be easy enough to locate. Nao was going to be a problem, but she knew most of the delinquent's favorite haunts. That left Alyssa and Akane unaccounted for, since the rest were either dead, or presumed so. 

Midori stuffed the addresses of the known HiME inside her shirt to protect them from getting wet, and exited the way she'd come in, knocking over the filing cabinet on her way out the window. With luck, the faculty would never notice the missing pages. She laughed to herself as she closed the window behind her, complimenting herself on a job well done. Such were her thoughts as the glass touched the sill, trapping three of her fingers in the jam.

"Ach!" She yanked her fingers free and stuck the stinging appendages in her mouth as she scampered across the campus, ignoring the calamity of her handiwork – drenched students making their way back to their dorms. _I should be getting hazard pay for this._ After all, she'd done them a favor, ending class early for the day.

* * *

"Shit!" Akira ground her teeth in fury, clenching the cell phone in a trembling fist. She stared at the apparatus as if it were a living thing; a particularly vile, ungrateful creature that had turned on her, savagely and without warning. She stabbed the redial button, listening to the pleasant recorded voice repeat that this number was currently out of service. Her fingers tightened convulsively. Plastic buckled and she snarled, tossed the now useless device towards the farthest wall; anger subsided with a final muttered curse, and she relaxed, letting her head sink to the table with a sigh. 

The entire day had been off – the most vexing waste of hours since the arc of descent, when the Carnival whispered half-lies and almost-truths, eager to fill the destitution their lives had become. Even with all the oddities and unanswered questions surrounding the dormitory fire – the mad, scrambling rush _it was too fast, way too fast_ afterwards: two days of confusion, of authorities and journalists hounding them, the ones that remained behind, the hurried finality of funeral arrangements that seemed to arrange themselves. No time to think, no time to grieve, no time for anything other than finding two black suits to wear, one for her, and one for Takumi, and listening to the skewed media reports on what may, or may not have happened. The 'senseless tragedy' that befell three families as their children roasted behind double-barred, heat fused doors.

It was infuriating, to wallow in the remains of the day. Yet she was powerless to break free, as ineffectual as she'd been when her Element staunchly refused her summons. _Ignoring me, just like that bastard Tate._ Getting nowhere with breakneck speed. _First my speculations into 'The Great Fuuka Conspiracy'_, she mused sourly. Then return of the benevolent demon prince. Midori's breath stirring the sands, once more starting their inexorable tumble through the hourglass. _And now this._

_What's gotten into him?_ She had no idea; she'd given Yuuichi every opportunity to recant, offer proof he still had some hint of honor, care for his misplaced inamorata, her brother, and what had he done? Regurgitated empty protocol, rebuked her for her simple-minded naiveté. Warned her not to stray too far into his affairs. Hung up on her.

"Prick."

A hand settled lightly on her shoulder, and she stiffened, lifting her head just enough to stare at the offending appendage.

"Akira-kun…"

"Your hand."

The touch on her shoulder lightened, as if its owner felt guilty for intruding.

"Your hand is in my space."

"Oh." The hand was retracted, but the presence remained; she turned in the chair, watched Takumi draw the hand to his chest, wrap fingers around the wrist, as if she'd bitten him. "Akira-kun, you haven't changed. Can I get you a towel?"

The dark haired girl stood abruptly, offering her mate a negative grunt and the briefest of smiles, before stalking to the bathroom. She shed her sodden clothing, kicked them into a pile on the bathroom floor; studied her reflection in the mirror, her fingers moving with a mind of their own, meditatively searching for that spot, now bare, which had once borne the mark of destiny. She was sure it was still there, somewhere. She could _feel _it, tripping and tangling along nerve endings, just below the skin.

"Akira-kun…" She froze, panicked, really, some small sound of mortification escaping between her clenched teeth as she dove behind the door, heart hammering so rapidly she could see spots and swirls of color float across her vision.

"Takumi!" It was more of a hiss than a snarl, but it froze him in place, just the same. "How many times have I told you to _knock_ before you come in?"

"Ahhhh, gomen, gomen… I didn't mean to frighten you…" He winced the minute the words left his mouth, taking a prudent step backwards. Of course, if she wanted to reprimand him for his choice of words, there was little he could do to prevent her, but it was never his intention to irritate his mate. He'd simply wanted to see if she was changed… and ask her if she wanted chicken or eel for dinner.

"Eee! Who was frightened?" Half growl, half whine. Takumi spread his hands in a placatory gesture, retreating the way he'd come without answering. Akira grimaced, turning to glare at her unclothed reflection in the glass. He knew her very well, much better than she'd ever give him credit for – mostly because _letting him get that close is a liability; one I can't afford._ She slowly closed the door, making sure it was secured before she uttered a heartfelt, but muffled apology.

"What did you want, Takumi?"

"Gomen, Akira-kun…"

"Shh… shh. It's fine. I overreacted."

The ninj-ette strained, listening to the hush before her roommate answered, and she imagined, based on tone, that he'd been taking a deep breath, gathering his courage before speaking again. _So timid; so simply feminine._ She shivered, crossing her arms over her chest, not particularly enjoying the way her body warmed to these thoughts, and she turned her emotions off with an ungentle shove. _Work now, play later._

"I thought since we didn't get the chance to eat in the cafeteria, you'd be hungry, so I was making us dinner." There was a pause, uncomfortably lengthening, and Akira leaned a bit closer to the door, trying to catch the hesitant words as their owner grew fainter, disappearing as his feet carried him elsewhere. "I'll make eel."

Akira grunted in amused irritation as she reached for a towel, tossing it across the toilet. She wanted to put this strangeness behind them; she wanted to give Takumi the answers he so desperately sought. Most of all, she wanted to see his smile. For that, she would tumble the columns of heaven, one pillar at a time. She nodded forcefully, pushing her hair out of her face as she stepped under the scalding stream.

She'd been putting off the inevitable, hoping Kanzaki-sempai would return, banish the darkness obscuring the edges of the puzzle, that Midori-sensei would find something tangible in her research – but the clock wasn't going to wait. In the end, it was up to her, as it always had been. A humorless grin coiled the corner of her mouth as she wrapped the towel around her torso.

Wandering towards the kitchenette, she followed the enticing aroma to its source. Something wasn't right, though – something out of place, and she paused in the archway.

"Akira-kun! Gomen… we have…"

And over-riding Takumi's panic stricken voice: "Yu hyuu, yaru! Okuzaki-kun, you didn't tell me you were living in the same room as Takumi!"

"…company."

Akira's scream, one of the few in her fifteen years of existence, actually managed to flake the plaster off the ceiling. Karma, it seemed, hated her back.


End file.
